Behooved
by OokaniFF
Summary: Elora finds herself in charge of Avalar, and learns the true importance of a Vacation. But with new responsibilities, come new and subtle threats. //M for complex themes. Grows into AU after Chapter 10. OC ALERT.//
1. Thirty CC's of Vacation, Stat!

**Behooved.**

**Some shameless notation:** Before I started, I TRAWLED the internet for references on Avalar's fauns and satyrs, and Elora's never-defined past. I found this great site, . that gave me a great insight to timeline and events before Ripto's Rage in Avalar. I will be using the historical timeline there, and also the Council of Avalar as citied on the Geography page about Autumn Plains. Do give it a read.

The following is the first, tentative steps into something that I'm not sure what it is. I need all the help I can get, suggestions on story progression, or slaps across the knuckle to make me stop committing sacrilege.

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be·hoove

_v._ **be·hooved**, **be·hoov·ing**, **be·hooves**

_._To be necessary or proper for: _It behooves you at least to try._

_._To be necessary or proper.

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**Chapter 1: Thirty CC's of Vacation- Stat!**

Elora wasn't one to sit and sulk; as we've already established, her Obsessive Compulsive desire to get things in order forbid her from pouting. But as she sat through meeting after endless meeting between Breeze Builders and Zephyrians, she formulated a half-fancy in her mind to drop pen and treaty and beat it into the dragon worlds and track that little purple monster down and out herself to him. Maddened, idle thoughts such as these were never far from her. Even in Colossus, when she went to try and meditate out her frustration, all she could do was work. She ended up overseeing the repair of the roof of the temple, and arranged for some, err, less squeamish folk to help scrape the yeti from under the statue.

Would she ever get a confounded _break_? How did Spyro manage to save so many worlds, help so many people, all the time?

Of course. He's always trying to squeeze in a vacation. Maybe Elora needed a holiday. Her shoulders were tense enough to crack plates on. Her eyebrows always seemed tensed into a slight frown, her face set in concentration; from the moment she woke up before dawn to the half an hour it took her to get to sleep. Not that administration was more taxing than doing battle with Gnorcs and Sorcery and blood thirsty Dinosaurs…

Make-shift presidents didn't take Vacations. There was no one to leave in charge in her stead. But, surely… A week- Just a week! A Week in Dragon Shores, to put her hooves up and relax. Avalar couldn't exactly fall apart in a week, right? Wrong. Of course it could. It already had once before. In less time.

Elora needed to do something. She had had it up to the teeth with being Avalar's sole babysitter, and it was time that everyone started to look after themselves. She had an idea. There were books, she had read, on the history of the three home worlds. She herself remembered back to the time before Ripto's attack, when things were pleasant and peaceful. But Ripto had come and gone some time ago. They all needed to get back to normal, some how.

She had an idea. Immediately she went to her nearest fairy friend, and told her to pass on a message. A message that would spread to every realm and race in Avalar.

Then finally, knock on wood, maybe she could get some time off, like the great scaly celebrity himself.


	2. Instant Council: Just Add Faun

**Behooved**

**Chapter 2: Instant Council- Just add Faun.**

Her hooves made an anxious clopping noise that echoed through the halls of the Autumn Plains castle as she made her way to the newly restored grand hall- the place where Spyro had defeated Gulp so long ago. She made no hesitation as she unlocked the great wooden door, and stepped onto the newly made elevator platform. At the stamp of one hoof, the platform juddered, and started a slow, bewitched decent.

The tunnel into the chamber, down, down, down, had been hastily lit with torches, the walls now decorated in tile patterns of fall coloured leaves. It still looked as dark and gloomy as the days when Ripto was in charge. From the bottom of the almost endless pit, Elora could hear the distant, muffled sounds of creatures talking above one another, raised voices, growls and snarls growing louder as the platform below her now seemed suddenly backlit, a ring of light showing up from underneath as the stone disk dropped into the light of the setting sun. Elora looked around nervously as she descended, the platform coming to rest in the centre of the grand circle, where all around in the pit that used to be filled with lava, ambassadors in twos from the all the denominations of creatures and realms, sat around. Pointedly, the Land Blubber Zephyrians and the Breezy Harbour Breeze Builders were at opposite ends of the circle, pulling faces. Elora sighed, wondering just how effective this was going to be.

"Quiet, please, all of you!" She commanded in her loudest and proudest voice, paired with an insistant stomp of her hoof as she stepped off the platform once it landed. It slowly began to rise again, and the other creatures began to settle.

"I'm sure you know why we're all gathered here today?" Elora began, and one Gemcutter piped up.

"Are we resetting the value of currency?" said the Gem-rat.  
"No, Twitchy." Replied Elora.

"Are we gunna make an in-ter-nat-i-o-nal ho-li-day for _bones_?" A representative from the Skelos Badlands slowly enquired; probably the most fluent caveman besides Cheiftain Glug.

"No. But we can decide those things at a later meeting."

"Later Meeting?!" Cried a Breezey Harbour gull. "You're not gonna drag us landside for this again, are you?"

A ripple of indignant voices rose from the colourful crowd, and as Elora stood their dumbstruck, a tin pot nearly struck her as it was flung from the Land Blubbers's side, soaring across the stone circle towards the Breeze Builders. That gave her an idea; Elora realized what the purpose of the large open circle was for. She called for quiet with an even louder bellow than before.

"Everyone, Please!" she began, then slowly started walking around the circle, close by the council seats, but out of paw-range, making eye contact with every member.

"Some of you may remember the events that lead to the creation of the Council of Avalar."

Some nodded, most frowned. There was now a tense silence, and it made Elora break a nervy sweat.

"Those of you that do, surely remember the economic boom we had. The peace. Everyone was free to roam between worlds. Racism was at an all time low. Violence, itself, was at an all time low. Then Ripto. We all remember his take over. He ruined the castles of the home worlds; and with it, the council- and now we're back to petty war!"

"He isn't back, is he?" groaned one of the turtles from Sunny Beach. A male seahorse from Aquaria towers sat beside her; heavily pregnant it seemed from the bulging pouch, in a giant fish bowl on wheels, and looked rather ill at the thought.

"No. Spyro took care of him for good, I think. Last I heard from him." Elora cleared her throat.

"That's right; that purple dragon Spyro saved us from Ripto!" chorused some young hippos from Scorch.

"Exactly." Elora swivelled on her hoof. "Spyro got rid of Ripto, but now it's our turn to save ourselves… from ourselves."

There was a low whisper of insecurity as the creatures looked about at each other. What could the faun possibly mean by that?

"Save ourselves, from our own Idleness. It's been some months since Ripto was ousted," Elora went on, "But we still have problems. Buildings need fixing, crops need growing. Lives need living. And peace needs keeping. I have assembled you all here, to announce my intention to reform the Council of Avalar."

Elora chewed her lip. There was a very heavy pause in the air.

Then a robotic businessman from Metropolis raised his metal hand.  
"You, sir?" Elora said automatically, gulping nervously as her voice echoed slightly in the cavernous hall.  
"Who will be on this Council, and what will it do for us?"

Elora blinked. That seemed so obvious, she almost slapped her palm to her face in exasperation.  
"You! Us. The Council will be formed from those of us present. At least, at first, then…" The faun started to bluff a little; she had anticipated failure, and hadn't planned answers to these questions. "-Then, every year, the realms will elect a new representative. Every… erm… every ten years, the council will elect a new chair."  
"Chair?" cried one of the air-headed Magma Cone fauns. "Why would the council elect _furniture_?"

"No, Looney! A chair… In this case, it means, the Chair of the Council. The person in charge is called the Chair."

"That's a dumb name." Grumbled one of the Idol Springs stone carvers. "How about, Boss of the Council. Boss of Avalar!"

There was a petty grumble amongst the creatures. They started to debate. And Elora, in the centre of it all, started to smile as she looked around herself, turning around to see all the different colours and textures and faces. She saw the council beginning to form, all by itself. It wasn't exactly a very polite council; they often talked over one another, shouted, threw insults even, and she had to stomp her hooves to get them to behave- Especially the Land Blubbers. Her hooves made the most resounding, booming echo in the circular domed roof; it almost seemed designed to amplify the sound. Of course it was- the first council was made of hoofed creatures, fauns and satyrs.

It was one of these that rose next.

"The chair of such an important council should have a dignified title." Announced a grey-furred faun, though it was hard to tell- she must have been a faun, but looked a great deal older. More like a short and stocky satyr. Goat-descended, evident from her slightly curved horns rising from her grey locks of hair. She wore a simple, but warm tartan cloak, swung across one shoulder, and underneath she wore a cream coloured tunic. She looked, and sounded, nothing like the immature bubble-gum blowing fauns of Fracture Hills. Elora turned to her and smiled warmly.  
"Have you got a suggestion?" Elora replied.

"One." The faun smiled back. "I would title you Guardian. Guardian of the Grand Council. Guardian of Avalar."

"That sounds…wait, Me? Why me?" Elora jumped back slightly, stumbled on her own hooves.

"Hey, you came up with the Council, you get to be the boss of it for the first ten years. And you know almost everyone by name." said the Seahorse, his tail wrapped protectively around his belly.

Elora sighed heavily. So much for shaking off responsibility for Avalar.

"Well…"

"And you've got the big, booming voice, and the big booming hooves. You get heard." Said Beaky the Breezebuilder. Surprisingly, the Land Blubbers nodded enthusiastically.

"But…"

"And hey, you're really nice! You want the bestest for Avalar." Cried a Gemcutter sweetly, beaming up at Elora with those big, sparkling jewel-like eyes.

"Wait…"

A satyr beside the grey faun nodded sagely. "You'd make a fair and just Guardian."

"All in favour of Guardian Elora, say-"

"Hold it!" Elora flailed slightly and gazed around the circle.

"Before you all elect me right here and now- I refuse to go back to how it was before. I'm not going to run around chasing people to do their jobs. I'm not going to take care of everything by myself! I might be the one to make the calls in this room, but only after a full council vote. From all of you. And then, once a decision's been made, it has to be followed through, and that will be the responsibility of those council members that decision involves; by that I mean, their home world, their realm, their race, and their people. Whoever, whatever it is, they have to commit to carry through the decisions of the council."

Elora realized the entire congregation had its eyes on her.

"Does… does everyone agree to that? That everyone sat here, will take responsibility of things going on in their world? I know some of you are just ambassadors, but we'll all, together, ensure that you all are heard in your realms. That's my promise to you."

Slowly, one by one, every creature stood from their chairs, making their own gestures of respect. The Land Blubbers took off their tin-pot helmets, the monks bowed their heads and clasped their paws.

Elora silently counted them all. There were… so many.  
"I'd call that unanimous." Chirped one of the mole-like creatures from Hurricos.

Elora nodded nervously.

The grey faun raised her head, and with a strong voice said:

"All those in favour of electing Elora as Guardian, say Aye."

"Aye!" replied every mouth in the room. _Almost._

"All opposed?..."

"..Na- OW!" One of the green-skinned carvers from Idol Springs found his foot had been stepped on rather sharply by one of the living wooden statues.

"Yay! Elora Wins!" Cried Twitchy the Gemcutter as he hopped in his seat.

No one cared to remind the ditsy mouse that, Elora had no one to compete against. They just laughed.

The faun, now Guardian, breathed a heavy sigh. When she spoke, now, every voice hushed.

"Thank you. Thank you all. But I mean it, guys, I'm not your mom!"

"We promise, we'll be vigilant." Said one of the Collosus monks, looking more than sheepish.

"What's our first order of business, Mrs Guardian?" piped Looney the Magma Cone faun.

Elora rubbed her chin in thought.

"First order of business… Is homework."

The council made a collective grunt of confusion.

Elora smiled and nodded. "Yep! Everyone, go home. Try and see what needs doing in your realm. Start raising money that will go to the council, to be used to make building repairs or help the poor. Make connections, talk to people. Get noticed and known at home and in other realms. We need to start encouraging travel- Heck, why do we have all these portals if we're not going to walk between them?"

She nodded her head, and creatures grudgingly agreed. Looks like they were hoping for a heated debate.

"As for specifics; Land Blubbers and Breeze Builders, we need you to call a temporary truce- a real one, please. Pull out forces immediately, on both sides. We'll start peace talks when I get back."

"Get back? Where are you going?" called the seahorse indignantly.

"Vacation." Replied Elora, smugly. "Dragon Shores, I think. Spend a day or two in the sun, then talk to the elders of the Dragon Worlds, and the Forgotten Realms, to announce the creation of the Council. We can begin Inter-world political ties, then, in earnest."

A Gemcutter frowned, and hopped onto the stone circle, bouncing over to Elora with a look of deep concern.  
"But… that's not a vacation, that's a business trip?"

Elora smiled sadly. "Yep. Looks like it. Well, Twitchy, at least I'm keeping Busy." She looked around the congregation. "We'll rendevous back here in one month. If there's an emergency, send a message to me by fairy. They know what to do, where to go. I hereby call this, first meeting of the Grand Council of Avalar; Adjourned!"

She was surprised to hear the entire council cheer, clap their paws, stomp their feet, and with a bashful smile, gave a little bow.

"Thanks, guys! Have a safe trip home!"

Slowly, the group began to dispel, moving towards the various archetraves in the walls where temporary portals had formed. Some took wing out through the windows into the endless blue sky. Some disappeared in a puff of smoke. More simple folk took the platform back up to the hole in the floor after making a two-beat stomp-stomp on the floor where it decended to. Elora turned away from the stone circle, looked out into that cloudy blue, thoughtful.

There was a buzz in her very fur, of excitement and dread. She hoped she could handle it- heck, now that she wasn't personally running around doing political chores, her job was _easier. _Only, now it had a title. And an assumed kind of prowess she was afraid to accept.

Would things really change? Would she ever get some kind of rest? Sometimes she felt so strained, so tired she feared she might collapse. Some how she remained standing.

But standing alone. At least, that's what she thought, until she heard the scrape of hooves behind her.

"Guardian Elora?" the grey faun from earlier announced quietly.

The sudden leader about-faced. "Oh, hey, sorry… Hey, it's you! You got me into this mess!" Elora joked. The other faun looked suddenly horrified, and she quickly waved her hands.  
"Kidding, Kidding… I owe you thanks, most of all. Without you people would be mistaking me for furniture. I didn't catch your name."

The grey faun's ears lowered slightly, gripped by sudden shyness.

"My name is Brogan Tully. I'm from Fracture Hills, apprentice to the Alchemist. At your service."

Elora watched the grey faun, who seemed older than herself, make a half bow, then stick out her hand to shake. She took the hand in her own; the grip as firm, feeling in the gesture both trust in business, and admiration.

"A pleasure to have you, Ambassador Tully."

"Please; you of all people should call me by my first name."

Elora sighed in relief. "Good. I like tradition and protocol, but all this formality feels stuffy."

"Leaves a bad taste in your mouth, doesn't it?" Brogan replied.

"Something like that. But, that counts for you, too. Just call me Elora. So, not going home?"

"Sorry?"

Elora looked around. "Just wondering why you hadn't left yet."

Brogan's ears dropped again. "I wanted to talk to you, before I did."

Ironically, here was a silent, tense pause between them.

"I'm all ears, Brogan." Elora reminded.

"Oh! Well, I just wanted to say; Thank you, for reviving the council."

"You're... you're welcome." Elora frowned. "Just doing what needs to be done, I guess. All I had to do was suggest the idea, and you guys up and elected me."

Brogan tapped the lip of her hoof against the stone.

"Well… I think you'll do fine. No matter what you think of your ability. I can see it in you. Hear it in your voice. You have the Gift of the Gab, Elora. Reminds me of what the Council used to be.

"You know about the old Council?"

Brogan nodded. "Of course. I know that, once upon a time some many thousands of years ago, it was exclusively Fauns and Satyrs. When the Kingdoms united, they included the other creatures, too, but it was still mostly us 'hoofers'."

"'Hoofers'?"

"Mm. Fauns and Satyrs. 'Hoofers'."

Elora frowned again.

"Sounds a bit… vulgar."

Brogan wagged one hoof just above the ground. "Not really. It's right there, isn't it? Fauns and Satyrs gets a little long winded."

The Guardian rubbed her arms, tensing again. "I'd prefer that you not use that term, around me."

Brogan quickly put her hoof down and looked away. Sheepish, now, rather than goatish.

"Pardon me."

"It's okay." Elora gently patted her shoulder. "Just… never heard myself described by my feet, before!"

They shared an awkward giggle, and Brogan slightly backed off, taking a step back.

"Well, I better go, Elor-"

"-Before you say anything."

Brogan blinked. "…All ears?"

Elora nodded.

"Don't apologise for thinking the way you think. I need someone to contradict me."

"…Elora?"

"No, I mean it." The chestnut faun nodded sagely.

"Some of the council members are yes-folk. They'll just nod and smile and take whatever I say. Some will outright refuse my ideas. People like you, with minds, will consider both sides of an argument and stick to your logic. I need someone with a mind up here with me, even if that means a heated debate."

Brogan's eyes twinkled, expression distorted with surprise.

"I… Of course. Yes. I know what you mean, Elora."

The guardian smiled, nodded, and then walked towards the platform waiting patiently at the centre of the stone circle.

"Oh, before you go, Elora!"

Elora had one hoof on the platform, and looked back over her shoulder at the other faun. "Yeah?"

"… Bon Voyage!"

Elora smirked. "Here's hoping Avalar will be in one piece when I get back." She stood fully on the platform, stamped her hoof twice, and with her eyes still on the grey faun, rode the platform as it ascended up into the well-like tunnel in the roof.

Brogan just kept staring at the black, endless tunnel up, up, up, until she could hear the distant clip-clop of hooves as Elora got off at the top. Her heart fluttered a half beat faster than those hoof falls, and she called the platform with two unnecessarily loud stamps.

---

Elora chewed her thumb nervously as she almost trotted down the hall towards the Winter Tundra portal. What was _that_ all about? Who was that faun? And why, oh, why, did she make such a fuss?

Must have been nerves. She wasn't that much older than Elora herself.

Maybe she wanted something. She wanted to get closer to the Guardian, maybe, to get more favour with her?

Political intrigue, so early on in an administration? To Elora, everything she did seemed more awkward and troublesome for her than anyone else. She would have to keep an eye on that grey-furred faun. Just in case she was more than she let on.

_((Curious? Brogan means "Badger", and Tully means "from the little hill", both in Irish. Thought it was appropriate. The names, where given, of the different races and ambassadors aside from the grey faun (My OC) were collected from the game. They're all canonical! Yay! ))_


	3. Actively Relaxing with Jack Daniels

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**Legalese:** Blah blah blah, I'm not Insomniac, nor do I own anything here. Do I really have to put this every time? Surely everyone knows that I'm not getting paid, or receiving profit, from writing this stuff and distracting myself from my job hunt? Jeez…

**Author's note:** This story, Behooved, rejects and renounces the Legend of Spyro series and all it's cannon. This story is taking place long after Spyro 3, but the cannon stops where Insomniac left off. I'm taking the opportunity to build (And bluff) what happened before, around, and after what is seen in the games, using what info I can find and gather from the fandom. Any help with this is greatly appreciated; please email me at werecreatures123 at msn dot com if you have any advice.

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The breeze ruffled the fur on her legs. It wasn't cool, more luke-warm, and quite unlike the winds of Autumn Plains. The whole air of this place was hot, and buzzing, but the movement of air did soften the baking, close weather.

Opening her eyes, Elora looked up into the serene blue of sky, then down, to the white foams of the waves breaking from one end of the beach line to the other.

Relaxing into the bamboo deck-chair, the faun ran her fingers through her hair, stretched her arms languorously above her head, then blushed, and put her arms down again. She was only wearing a green bikini, after all, and she still wasn't used to such revealing clothing. Crossing one hoof over the other, she looked around at the beach. It was filled with little pockets of dragons in threes and fives; families, it seemed, or couples, all enjoying the endless summer sun.

Her fingertips alighted on her drink- a little glass of tropical punch that she half-knew was spiked with a very good brandy, by the tastes of it. She sipped it anyway. It'd been a long time since her last drink.

A ball went sailing past her head, and she watched as it bounced into the sand, and right after it a small dragon glided- again, just above her head.

"Spyro?" she blurted out on instinct. But the juvenile was green, not purple, and looked very embarrassed as he caught his ball and looked up.

"Sorry ma'am."

"You were cutting it a little close, there. More clearance next time."

"You're not from around here, are you, ma'am?"

His next question, and Elora's unsure answer, was interrupted by the dragon's sire.

"Gorbash! What have I told you about flying so low over- Sorry, miss, he's not usually this rude."

Elora saw his shadow block out her sun and she looked up at his forest-green scaled form.

"Must be all the sun. It's alright, really."

She felt her neck complain, she had to crane it so high to meet the dragon's gaze.

"Well, as long as you didn't get hurt. Say… I thought I heard you, ah, say something about…Spyro?"

Elora blushed.

"Oh, yeah, that. I just stumbled over my words. I've been trying to find him."

The dragon half laughed. It wasn't a friendly sort of laugh.

"You're… you're kidding, right? You want to find… _the_ Spyro?"

"Well, yes. I know he's a big celebrity and all, but-"

"He's not just a celebrity. He's _the_ celebrity! He's… he's Spyro! He hasn't got time to stop for autographs, lady, he's got worlds to police."

Oh boy. Why didn't she see this coming?

"I'm aware, sir. Yes, sir, he saved my world, too. And never came back to police it, either. And in fact, he's a jerk once you get to know him."

Elora gave herself a mental slap. Must have been that spiked punch. She downed the rest, then got to her hooves and looked up. Mr Green Dragon didn't look to happy with her.

"What place have you to say that, Hoofer?" he hissed, a low, rumbling growl quite like a big-cat's rolled around in his chest.

"I'm Elora, The Guardian of Avalar, sir. And I don't appreciate the racial slurr, either."

Screwing his nose up, the Dragon continued.

"If you're the Guardian, what are you doing out here?"

At this point, Elora snapped. She turned on her hoof, and stomped away.

"I'm on _vacation_!"

She left behind her an agitated adult dragon, a sheepish youngster, and an agrivated dragoness trying to tug the two males back to their camp where their youngest was digging herself a deceptively deep hole.

Back at the little tiki-hut bar, Elora ordered herself another drink, and the Kangaroo lad bartender gladly went to work.

"Awlright there Sheila?"

Elora bristled. She remembered that there was a Kangaroo girl that followed Spyro around, known by that name. Being compared to a marsupial wasn't on her list for today.

"Do I look like her? Really?"

"No, no! Yeh got me wrong, babe. Sheila just means 'girl'. Blimey, wouldn't go mixin' your name up on purpose."

She could tell he was flirting, as he rocked back onto his strong tail and juggled bottles, mixing the cocktail. Show off. She smiled, entreating him by leaning forward against the bar, showing off herself. The Kangaroo nearly dropped the glass.

"Never did catch your name, by the way."

"Elora." She smiled coyly as he landed back on his big back feet and handed over the drink.

"Name's Jack. Nice to meetcha. Was that Big Scaley over there doin' you mischief?"

"Oh, no. Nothing I can't handle. He's getting a hiding from his mate, anyway, by the looks of things."

But Jack wasn't interested in the dragons. He leant on the bar across from her, cleaning glasses.

"You look like the kind of gal that could hold her own, too."

"I guess you could say that."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Don't reckon I've seen you on the Shore, before, sweetheart. You new in town?"

"Just on vacation, Needed some time off. You live here?"

"Oh yeah, the Hut's been in the family fer years."  
"Ever thought of moving?"

"Naw, love! This is paradise! Surf is up all year round, so when I'm not up on the sand, I'm out in that sea."

Elora turned around and looked out across the waves. It was around three o' clock- she had sheltered under the shade during midday. She heard it was only Mad Dogs and Gnorcs that went out in the midday sun. She could see though, the endless horizon, the lush tropical jungles and lively characters… this could certainly be paradise. But it wasn't home.

"I'm from a colder climate."

"Oh yeah? Where abouts?"

"Autumn Plains." She said on instinct, then looked up. "Oh, err… Avalar."

"Avalar? Huh. Haven't heard much of there."

"No, it's, well... never been much for tourism. It's kind of been in turmoil lately."

"If it's full of gorgeous Sheilas like you, it should be a hot spot."

Elora was starting to like that word, now. She shifted on her barstool, and tried to look…interesting. She didn't have much practise flirting, but hey, she was drinking, and this was paradise. And while she had a captive audience that was borderline ignoring his other patrons she'd might as well try.

"You're flattering."

"Yeah? Well I'm not exaggerating, that's for sure." He added as he pulled a pint of larger for an impatient blue dragon.

Elora took the moment to subtly arrange herself, leaning back on the bar and exposing a not-indecent amount of décolletage. And just then she felt a paw on her shoulder. Jack shied away discreetly, and the faun turned around.

"Elora! Well, haven't you grown up since I last saw you!"

_((The plot thickens! Who could it be that knows her here? Will Jack be anything more than flirting practise? Will Elora lose hope in Avalar and run away to Dragon Shores? Is her vacation at a premature end? Tune in next time, because I'm not sure either!))_


	4. Warning: No Refunds on Broken Hearts

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_((I shamelessly copy-pasta'd this from Chapter 3. It's 2am for pete's sake.))_

**Legalese:** Blah blah blah, I'm not Insomniac, nor do I own anything here. Do I really have to put this every time? Surely everyone knows that I'm not getting paid, or receiving profit, from writing this stuff and distracting myself from my job hunt? Jeez…

**Author's note:** This story, Behooved, rejects and renounces the Legend of Spyro series and all it's cannon. This story is taking place long after Spyro 3, but the cannon stops where Insomniac left off. I'm taking the opportunity to build (And bluff) what happened before, around, and after what is seen in the games, using what info I can find and gather from the fandom. Any help with this is greatly appreciated; please email me at werecreatures123 at msn dot com if you have any advice.

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Elora beamed, then slid off the stool and leapt into the Cheetah's arms.

"Hunter! Hey! How've you been? You are missing so much at home! When are you coming back? Do you live here now? Hey! What happened to Spy-"

Hunter embraced her, then tried to hold her back a bit as her questions became incessant.  
"Hold it, Hold it there motor mouth! Geez, you sound like a fairy…"

"Aw, I'm sorry Hunter, I just haven't seen you in so long, and-"

A white bunny in a purple bikini moved up to the bar, and suddenly Jack had his attention filled again.

"Bianca?"

Hunter padded over to the rabbit, barepawed- he had probably left his running shoes somewhere. He looked pretty good in just those swimming trunks. Oh boy. There were all new muscles under that spotted pelt.

"Elora, you remember my fiancé, right?"

So she had snapped him up. Good. He needed someone to keep him under control.

The bunny looked up from her newly aquired gin and tonic, and smiled a little shyly.

"Hi, Elora, nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too." Elora replied, though her eyes were on Jack. And his eyes were on Bianca's perky little-

"So what's new?" Hunter piped up. "What brings you to Dragon Shores?"

"Oh! Just a vacation."

"About time! I thought you could use a break."

"I do. I really, really do." She laughed, and Bianca retracted herself from the conversation, feeling out of place.

Hunter turned his attention fully to Elora, for once.

"I was actually going to send a message to you by fairy. Bianca and I are… well we hope to tie the knot, soon. I want you to be there."

"Oh, Hunter. Of course I will!"

The cheetah seemed to be waiting for something, his arms crossed.

"…Oh, you mean, really? You're not, like, busy or something?"

"Well sure! So long as it doesn't clash with a council meeting, and those can be moved around easy, anyway."

"…Council?"

"The Council. Of Avalar. I'm the Chair."

Hunter's paw went to his forehead.

"I don't believe it. You're a politician?"

Now that was something she hadn't thought about.

"Well, someone's gotta do it." Elora wanted to move the conversation on, and fast.

"Spyro's going to be there, isn't he?"

"He'd better be, he's my best man." He could read by her expression that she was less than happy with the purple hero.

"Look, 'lora. I know you're still sore at him…"

"Tell me about it." The faun snipped, and she leant against the bar.

"But it's not his fault. He is pretty distracted, ya know."

"I know. So I've heard. And frankly, so am I."

"So… It wouldn't work out anyway, would it?"

Elora stopped. Since when was Hunter _insightful._

She didn't want to have this conversation right now, and she turned away. How could Hunter possibly know what she wasn't sure of in her own heart? Or maybe it was a case of, how could he not know? Maybe that cat wasn't as thick-skulled as he seemed. In any case she shook her head and turned away, walking awaya from the bar towards the shore. Hunter was on her heels, in any case. Now she had to tell. At least they had some element of privacy- she wasn't prepared to talk about this in front of that rabbit.

"I… I don't think it would be unreasonable, Hunter. He has to settle down some time."

"I guess. But, you remember that party-"

"The one where he pretty much renounced love and marriage as a possibility, and proved what an immature lizard he is by leading me on?"

She realized that the cat hadn't said anything, and glanced up. His face was the picture of pissed-off kitty.

"I'm sorry, Hunter. Hadn't had a chance to vent that yet."

"It's not me you should say that to. You know how old Spyro is, right?"

"Vaguely. Young adult?"

"Not quite. He's a teenager in Dragon Years. He doesn't get it because he ain't meant to! He has no idea."

"…Aw great, so I'm a cradle snatcher?"

Elora frowned. "And I guess that means that it will take a long time for him to grow up and be ready."

"Yeah. That's what we tried to tell you before you stormed off, that night. I'm sorry if you feel you've been lead on, but, I think it was you doing the leading."

The faun stopped, her hooves digging into the sand.  
"Do you blame me? He was my knight in shining scales. It felt right."

Hunter's nose twitched. "Yeah, but, did it _really_?"

"You pick the strangest times to be a moral compass, Hunter."

"I'm Sorry, Elora. Just trying to help both of my friends... I know you're trying to relax, and all."

Elora grumbled and ran her hands through her auburn locks, pulling the hair away from her face. The lotion was starting to wear off, and she wasn't happy on the beach anymore. Maybe she could go and do her job, for a bit, until Hunter wasn't around to tell her what she already knew.

She bid him a hasty farewell, and told him to send the invite via fairy to her when she got back home. Then she made her way up the beach, to where the land broke into clearings in the forest, her hooves making an unexpected clopping against the sandy, gravelly roads.

How dare he! What nerve he had to be so reasonable. Hunter had been an Avalarian for longer than he had been Spyro's friend. Elora and Hunter had grown up together! Surely he could take her side, logic or no! The faun huffed and stomped up the hill, following wooden sign posts to the Elder's home.

All this sudden romance was starting to get to her. Maybe some politics would cheer her up.


	5. Dis iz Srs Bizniz Trip

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_

_I'm fed up of doing disclaimers, by gum. We all know that the original Spyro trilogy _(Spyro the Dragon, Spyro 2: Gateway to Glimmer (or Ripto's Rage) and Spyro: Year of the Dragon_) began and ended with Insomniac, and all those characters belong to them. Not sure whether Universal nabbed all the 'minor' characters as well, only to trash them… grrumblerumblegrumblegrrowlrassemfrassemragrgh…_

**Author's note:** I took the name Argus from a Spyro the Dragon game guide, where they handily had a list of the names of all the Dragons in the game. I can't remember what Argus' personality is like, or what he even looks like, but I do know you free him in the Artisan's Homeworld. I thought it would be appropriate to name him after an existing dragon, at least.

**Also**, I vaguely took inspiration for Elora's "business suit" from Razzek's drawings of her in 'Ripto's Advisor' outfit. Ooooh, she is one hawt tomale in that thing…

* * *

"So, err, remind me again what your name is, Miss…"

"Elora." The faun replied, wringing her hands slowly together in her lap. She felt awkward, sitting in the huge arm chair, built for dragons. She glanced down- her hooves hovered just above the floor.

She had almost forgotten to change from her beach wear to something more appropriate for political discussion- she had been standing infact on the Elder's doorstep when she realized why it was so breezy. Now, her torso was dressed in a green blouse, a black suit-jacket over the top with a dark green neckerchief set under the collar in the place of a tie. Upon her hocks, she wore black spat-like bands, and these were in the place of, and representing, shoes and trousers. For fauns and satyrs, it was generally acceptable for there to be no clothing below the waist. It was difficult and uncomfortable for fauns to wear trousers, though skirts and dresses were a hit with the girls. And, after all, as fauns and satyrs had a good thick covering of fur across their legs… well, no harm came of it.

But that was beside the point; our heroine was dressed for success, and she wanted to look the part of politician. It was vital that she was taken seriously- for her own sake, but also for the good of Avalar.

"Miss Elora, yes… now, what was it your position was?" The Elder dragon Argus, a 'mayor' of sorts for Dragon Shores, was scanning the scrolls and tomes stored in many bookshelves behind his huge desk. Elora was starting to grow weary of repeating herself.

"I am the Head of the Council of Avalar; the Guardian."

"Guardian of Avalar… Hm, and not a bad title. Has a nice ring to it. Never heard of your land, before young Spyro mentioned it."

_Mentioned_ it? The nerve!

"Yes, he... helped us a great deal in our fight against Ripto."

"Indeed, it sounded like quite a fight." The old, blue dragon with long whiskers tapped his claws on a tome.

"Ah-Ha! Here we are. 'Legislations for Opening Boarders to New Worlds."

And there, Elora's patience slipped.

"Excuse me, Argus, sir, if I may."

The dragon looked up, sliding the book out from the shelf.

"Avalar is not new, sir. It is many millennia old, from what our archaeologists in Scorch have found. Our history is well documented."

The elder seemed both perturbed, and impressed by her brazenness.

"Yes, I imagine it is. But, you are new to us." He turned to the tome and flipped through the pages. "There are very few recorded crossings from the Dragon Realms to your Avalar. Establishing a trade and travel act between us and you could take some time to officiate, you understand."

"Oh, yes, of course. I would expect as much."

"Hrm, you sound quite confident. Do you truly believe you are ready for this role? It's not a light one. Any degree of leadership is difficult and thankless."

Argus raised his grey-furred eyebrow at her. Elora suddenly felt rather young.

"I have no choice but to be ready." She replied simply, steeling her nerve.

"Hah!" He snapped the book shut, and the faun cursed herself for jumping so violently at the sudden sound. "Good answer. You won't be ready for many years yet, girl. One must _become _a good leader."

Elora stayed absolutely quiet, keeping the notion to herself that she had been doing a great deal of leading in the last many months.

"In any case," Argus continued, "I can not help you."

"What? Why?"

"Because, I am only one Elder. I can only speak for Dragon Shores- and as far as I am concerned, Dragon Shores will welcome the new tourism, and your kind are welcome here so long as they don't become a trouble. But, since you want more than that, you will have to wait untill the Elders of the Dragon Worlds convene again."

"If I may?"

"Mm?"

"When will that be?" Elora sounded hopefull.

"Lets see…" Argus went to his astrological charts, drawing his claw across the planets, the stars, the path of the sun and moons across the night skies of all the worlds laid out before him- then he went to the calendar hanging on the wall. He flipped through some pages, then tapped one digit against a box with a red cross through it. "Six months, to the day."

Elora audibly sighed, then. She placed her hand on her flank, where a bag was sat beside her, and she slid a heavy tome of her own out of the bag.

"This is a guidebook of Avalar," she announced, leaning a _very_ long way forward to place the book on the desk. Honestly, the furniture in this place was enormous!

"It also contains an Almanac. Could you tell me, sir- I'm no expert in these things- are your months the same as ours?"

Argus plucked up the book that was large to Elora, but quite pocket sized to himself. He even resorted to donning a pair of glasses that, went put on, made his eyes appear almost as gargantuan as the gems of Glimmer.

"Ah, yes, that's better. Avalar appears to be somewhere around…" he turned to the map of the many dragon worlds, and tapped a space just beyond the boarders.

"…Here. Ah! Yes, indeed. The months should be the same. We meet, traditionally, in the town square of Artisan. We meet for a full day. Make a party of it. Many of us have quite a way to travel."

"I see. Is there any protocol for me to attend?"

"Protocol? Oh my, no. We Dragons are not so formal."

Elora looked sceptical and eyed the thousand or so tomes on law and legislation on the shelves. Maybe they were just for show- or just for outsiders.

"All you must do, Elora, is show up, dress smart, and smile. I'm sure you will turn a few heads. After all, new places to stretch the wings are always attractive."

"However, Argus." Elora broke in, "I don't want my world to be taken as a joke- or merely a tourist facility. We are a working, living, breathing world, and we are still recovering from years of civil war and pest infestation."

"Oh, yes, yes, of course." Argus fluffed her off, waving his paw dismissively. "Of course. You will be treated with the utmost respect."

Still, the faun felt dubious. And the Elder saw it in her.

"A word of advice- take us Dragons with a pinch of salt. If you can weather the teasing, and chiding, you will show yourself worthy among my kind. So far, I can see no reason not to allow an open boarder treaty. It's a case of arranging things- Just, keep your nose clean, rally your people, prepare your proposal, and we will see you in half a year."

This was her cue to leave, Elora thought. With difficulty, she slid from the chair and dropped to the floor with a loud clop, then made her way around Argus' morbidly obese desk, and offered her hand to shake. He very gingerly took it in his paw, and made the motion of a shake that wouldn't rip her arm off. Then he returned her guidebook to her.

"You have the mettle for it, Elora. You drive a good pitch. I look forward to seeing you at The Gathering."

"I have one question left to ask, Sir."

"By all means."

Elora hated herself for asking, and hesitated.

"Will Spyro be there?"

"Spyro? I imagine so- but not because he wants to talk business. He only attends The Gathering for the food. Our wives tend to send us with food offerings for the buffet supper, this last meeting was one of the better. We had a theme- Pigs and Apples! Absolutely delicious, I tell you."

For just a moment, the faun wasn't sure how to react to that. Although she now felt faintly hungry.

"No, Spyro did attend, this time, and I imagine he will make another appearance- but only because he feels he must. He spends all his time down the well-portal to The Forgotten Realms, nowadays, although I am surprised you haven't yet found him on the Shores. He and his little friends tend to spend their time there."

"Maybe someone warned him I was coming." Elora smirked, and she smiled just a little more honestly when Argus laughed, ushering her towards his door. As she bowed good bye, and heard the door shut behind her, her mind turned. She had only meant that last one as a half-joke. It was making her wonder. Maybe Hunter had been keeping an eye out for her…

_No, bad faun. No paranoia for you. You're on vacation, you've done your work, it's happy fun time now!_

"…Happy _Fun Time_?" she muttered to herself, quite disgusted at her choice of words. She rubbed her forehead, sighed, and made a bee-line for the hotel. She wanted to take a shower, change back into her beach wear, find something quick to eat on the boardwalk to tide her over, and then, find Jack again.


	6. Jumping the Shark

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* * *

_

_As Razz reminded me (oh boy do I feel daft =] Thanks for that!) Spyro is owned by Universal. In any case, they shouldn't sue me anyhow since I don't get paid for this. If I was, I would have a bigger bedroom._

**Fair Warning:** I'm rating this M now, because of… stuff… that will happen… Vaguely in the future. I don't want to give anything away but Whisky is in Elora's future. Cue Angst and Mild Peril. She sounds pretty blegh at the moment, even I will admit, I took a long time to get the chutzpah up to write this segment because I foresaw great, looming emoness on her horizons. But she's going through a difficult time right now, and I swear things will get better for her. Things have to get worse before they can get better.

With that in mind, read on, and don't spare the coffee!

* * *

The sun was a half-mast in the sky, but it was high time Elora had something to eat. Now dressed in the bikini again, and a sarong wrapped around her, she headed back down to the board walk, passing the noisy Carnival games that were open all year round.

Dragon Shores was one of those funny places that existed across the worlds, that had its own season cycle- if you could call it that. It got blisteringly hot for a week at the peak of summer, usually celebrated by weird hippy people at Burnfest; some strange festival involving way-too-hot food, where creatures would compete head to head for the best sun burn. More like Invite-Skin-Cancer-Week, Elora thought. Then, quite contrariwise, in the winter, there was one week of, yep, you guessed it, snow. Buckets of snow would descend upon Dragon Shores, as if making up for the missed out two months and three weeks, then melt away without a trace.

There were a few places like that in Avalar, Elora thought as she padded out onto the beach, watching the waves crest as they rolled into the shore with a rich, rumbling sound, a fresh crash following that as the foam hit the sand. She wondered if she should have gone on as she did, the food stalls were behind her. But her hooves were seeking out a tastier treat than mere nutrition, whether she knew it or not.

Right on cue she spotted a figure riding the waves in, as casual as can be. Bare chested, wearing nothing but a pair of low-riding swimming trunks in some faded blue Hawaiian pattern, rode Jack the 'Roo on his board. She waved like an absolutely looney, and squealed when he responded in kind; a wide gesture that employed the whole of his arm and paw.

"Hey, Sheila!" came the very muffled call before the roll of the wave came behind him. Elora bolted; the pockets of people on the beach and boardwalk meant nothing to her now, her tail flicking and tossing behind her. Her hooves made scoops of sand flip around her, a little dust cloud forming in her wake. Jack had barely dismounted from his board onto the wet sand when she arrived more quickly than he thought she would. Bracing, he opened his arms out welcomingly.

Elora hadn't expected to be offered a hug. Actually, she hadn't thought about stopping, either.

Too late, and when she locked her hocks and tried to skid to a halt, she still ended up barrelling into the marsupial, and only succeeded in creating a bank of sand either side of her as she did. Some of which somehow ended up in her mouth.

"Woah! Pete was right, this new cologne does work…" Jack mumbled as he double checked that his tail hadn't been broken in the fall, and reached out to stop his board from washing away out to the surf.

Elora looked absolutely mortified as she picked herself up- Jack made a lovely cushion for her fall. Looking down at him, her elongated ears twitched from embarrassment. Did ever man on earth just instantly get a six pack when they reached the Shore? Couldn't be. Jack was too active, he must have earned it, for sure.

"Oh, geez, look what I did. Oh, Jack, I'm sorry, here let me get that sand off your-"

"Ah, nothin' a quick swim won't do, right?" Jack replied as he literally hopped to his feet, moved a few paces up the beach, and planted his surf board in the ground. Then her turned to look at the faun, who was still sprawled a little on the sand. Then he looked up at the wave that was cresting behind her.

"Three…two…"

"Jack?"

"One! Close your eyes!"

And it was about then that Elora made the mistake of looking up- as a blue curl of water loomed over her head at the same time as sweeping her up from the sand. Jack made the smart move of jumping over the wave, which the faun could have done too, the way her feet were built. But as she was on the deck, she remained there, but ended up with her back to the surf board, soaking wet, covered in sand, her hair a salty wreck, and looking rather pathetic.

"There! That cleaned the sand off, didn't it?"

"No!" Elora spat as she tried to part her red locks around her face so she could scowl at him more affectively.

"If yeh don't get up, though, Shelia, it'll happen again." Jack warned chidingly.

Elora did stagger back to her hooves, and looked at the sarong. It wasn't supposed to get wet, really… but there was an attractive potential mate standing one foot away from her. In rebellion she tied it around the surf board, then turned to the Roo.

"How do you do that, anyway?"

"What, jump the wave?"

"Yeah!"

"Easy. Jump."

"Oh c'mon, there's got to be more to that!"

Another wave was coming in. Elora stood with hooves apart, bent at the knee and hock, waiting.

"When I say Jump…"

"How High?" Elora cut in. Jack laughed.

"No, really, how high do I jump?" Panic set in a little as the water approached.

"Jump!"

Elora hadn't been prepared, and while her hooves were off the sand the surf caught her lower leg and she was in the drink again. She was quick to recover, and shook her whole body out to get the droplette from her fur. She ended up looking like a fluffy poof-ball on stilts.

Jack was just admiring the way her décolletage wobbled when she shook off the water.

"Practise makes perfect!" he reminded. He could do this all day…  
"I think I've had enough of jumping waves for one day."

"Surely you wanna go for a swim though, right?"

Oh, he looked so hopeful, those big doe-like brown eyes gazing out of that oddly shaped head, with his dark brown, big wet nose and white whiskers. Elora almost melted.

"You have to carry me in as an apology for getting me wet."

"I have to apologise for getting you wet? We ent gonna get on, girl."

Elora just rolled her eyes, and started walking towards the water anyway. To her surprise, paws fell onto her shoulders, then coasted down her back; and before she could turn around to protest, she was scooped up into the over-grown hare's arms and being paraded straight into the sea. She squealed, her arms wrapping around his neck, her hooves pedalling air as she squirmed.

"Blimey, Jack!" she squeaked, mirroring his accent, as she peered down at the water below, her tail dunked at the tip. "Look how high up you've got me! I didn't realize how tall you were."

"Sorry, Shelia, are you afraid of heights?"

"Only a little."  
"I can fix that."

And he surreptitiously dropped her into the sea. Jack looked rather smug even as the torrent of water the splash had created subsided, then he wondered what she was doing down there. Worried that he might have drowned the girl, he reached down to fish her out…

He didn't stand a chance. His big feet were subjected to an under-water tug and he was in the water, too, and at the mercy of the tickling hands of an Elora-Shark.


	7. Farewell, Most Foul, Most Fair, Farewell

* * *

Spyro belongs to Universal.  
And my fingers, and brain, that combined forces to create this drable, belong to me.

**Author's Note:** Things get nice and juicy in this chapter, but will it be worth it in the end? Unfortunately I couldn't write as much, and as detailed as I wanted to for this, because it was boardering soft porn. If you're clever, though, you'll figure your way through the vagueness.

* * *

After half an hour's 'swimming', (or more accurately, a kind of cross between kiss-chase and wrestling) The pair decided it was about time they moved out of the water. It had grown a little darker, and the clouds had crossed the sky, and feeling a little colder, Elora clung to Jack's arm, one hand clutching her still-drying sarong, as he picked up his surfboard and started heading back to where his posse had set up a barbecue, and some camping chairs around a fire pit. There, Elora was introduced to the gang- A short rat-like creature named Rick, an iguana with a strong bayou accent called Clay, a female red kangaroo by the name of Snap, and a wallaby with a more piercings than a Gnorc convention, referred to as Stew. Now, Elora had never seen a wallaby before, and she was horrified to think that perhaps Snap had brought her son, and that he was greying and pierced! It was revealed to her later that he was indeed the only married one of them, had two children, one on the way, and had successfully paid of his first mortgage.

After short introductions, burger buns were passed around and the all clear was given for the food on the barbecue. Elora felt a little reluctant to eat another's food, concidering herself an uninvited guest, but Rick cut her off at the pass.

"We bring tons, just in case some dudes come off the surf starvin'. Burger or Hot Dog?"

Elora paled."Actually, I'm a vegetarian."

"S'awlright, Sweetheart" Snap spoke up. "So am I. I brought some veggie versions with me, if you don't mind waiting for em. Won't take two ticks."

Now that she had something sturdily in common with Snap she broke into conversation, dispelling all myths that she was a shy, retiring wallflower. Clay passed around the cans of beer lazily with his tail, one of which Snap took, then immediately placed inside her pouch for later so that her hands were free to flip the green and orange burgers on the grill. Jack lamented that he could neither multitask like that, nor get free pocket space.

For the faun, this was the most strangely homely environment she had ever been in. The company was all well within her peer-group, the average age including herself coming to around early twenties, excluding Stew, who was the eldest at a staggering 27. But there she stood, on the beach, in nothing but a bikini, talking and eating and drinking with strangers she had met, and she felt like she had never been without them.

Night drew in, and after the satisfying meal, Elora's thoughts turned to going back to the hotel room to sleep. But the stars were just coming out, and it seemed the sun had only just set two minutes ago, rather than two hours. She was perched upon Jack's lap, as there hadn't been a spare camping seat, and the male roo had insisted she should not sit on the sand. And while she was comfortable, it had taken three cans of beer and a few hours of subtle little touches to the fur of her back to get her to recline and lean into Jack's chest. She had even dozed off once or twice, warm and with a full stomach and a night cap, she would have been content to go to sleep there. But the discreet tugs on the top of her tail, the occasional thrum of Jack's deep, heavy accent in his chest, kept her somewhat distracted from the sensible idea of strolling home.

It was around midnight and she was starting to get a second wind of energy, on her fourth can of the night, a smirk was plastered across her features.

"Jack…"

"Mm?"

"Want to go swimming again?"

"You've only just dried off…" Jack mumbled slightly into her shoulder. His posse seemed to have an unspoken agreement not to notice their vague canoodling.

"I know. I wouldn't mind getting wet again." Elora whispered with an undignified giggle.

"Oh Geez, alright."

Finding her hooves- and marvelling at how well balanced she was on them, she started to meander her way towards the beach. She heard Clay say something to Jack about a lover boy, and Jack caught something in his paw, and stuffed it firmly into the pocket of his swimming trunks, the one with a zipper, and sealed it tight.

Letting him catch up to her, Elora linked her arm in his and leaned slightly towards him. He seemed to be handling his drink better than her. Maybe he did this every night. The faun hadn't realized how far away the water was from the top of the beach where the rest of the group was. All she could really see of them was the light of the fire. But then again, everything seemed just a little hazy anyway.

They reached the water's edge and broached it calmly- the waves weren't thundering in quite so angrily now that the tide was out, and the pair could wade in without too much fuss. There was less play in them, this time, less fun about just enjoying eachother's company. Jack seemed to have a purpose, his mind wasn't quite there. Elora was just concentrating on putting one hoof in front of the other. Jack was a little ways ahead when her turned around and grinned at her. The moon was up, and illuminated his features as it reflected off the uneven water's rippling surface. Elora was submerged to the tops of her breasts and didn't want to go much farther.

"I won't be able to keep my head up" she slurred.

"Nah, yeh'll be fine. I've got my heels on the ground 'ere."

Trusting him, Elora swam out, and he caught her by the waist in his forepaws, bringing her in close. Suspended, and boyant in the water, Elora felt a little more comfortable in Jack's arms. She followed his lead, and linked her arms around his shoulders, drawing herself closer, flush against his form. She bristled as she felt him shifting under the water, and now it was impossible to escape.

Not that she wanted to. Though her senses were dulled, her skin was on fire, scalding hot to the Roo's touch. Her hooves curled at the hock, her legs drawing up, slowly and quite against her better judgement shifting up around his hips.

She had no idea what she was doing. But Jack certainly did.

Once her legs were securely hooked around his hips he leaned forward and kissed her. It wasn't a comfortable sort of kiss. It tasted…somehow wrong. Even working around the badly matched facial structure- which in all fairness Elora wouldn't normally be so concerned with – there was something off. The tinge of beer on his tongue, in fact the very invasive nature of his tongue, set her on edge.

She tried to enjoy it- she had to. This was her big shot at happiness- someone who seemed to be taken with her! Never had she found the like. And all the flirtatious exchanges they had had, after all that- could she really deny him? Of course he wanted to share this with her…

But was this really sharing? He wasn't doing much for her. His movement against her, his touch was starting to make her shiver- in a very bad way.

She managed to break away for a breath, and immediately the Roo's mouth found purchase on her neck. She squirmed, but found herself quite stuck- too high up in the water to be able to touch her hooves down anyway- and even then, she was still hiked up on his hips. She was literally unable to escape his grasp. This frightened her.

"Jack!" she whimpered, only half realizing that was the wrong thing to say, and the wrong way to say it, too- as Jack only responded with a groan. His hands were well out of the acceptable zone and descending fast.

And just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, she locked up. Frozen from fright, and then a sudden immeasurable pain. _When_ had he taken his shorts down?!

"Jack!" she practically shouted, but this time trying to wriggle away, and in return the roo only hugged her harder around the waist. He was relentless, and she knew it should have felt wonderful, but it wasn't right.

Anger blazed in her eyes, and raising her hooves up against his chest, she shoved him back, and as far away from her as possible. He hit the water with a splash, and took a while to come back up.

By the time he was up out of the water and fathoming what had happened, the faun was out of the water and swiftly walking up the beach, her tail curled around her leg, arms tightly around her waist. The moonlight shone beautifully across her damp fur, her hair limp and water logged, and the sea breeze just barely carried the sound of a muffled sob.


	8. Reflection

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Spyro Belongs to Universal. All your Spyro are belong to them.

**Author's Note**: Wowsers! That last chapter was as corny as hell! Don't you think Elora suits being a veggie, though?

**Also:** I wrote this while on a can of beer, trying to get myself drunk so I wouldn't stress about my exam results. I get them tomorrow (Thursday, 20th of August, 2009)

I'll let you know how I did in the next update =D

* * *

The day after the beach fiasco, Elora had decided to turn home. She could not reason that she could stay any longer. She had only been there three days, including today, and was going two days early. But she had tanned the first day, found out what she had needed to on the second, and lost her virginity in the wee hours of the third.

How could she have been so stupid. Waking up in the hotel room, alone, was some solace, though. She had looked at the tear-stains on the pillow as a good thing. A warning. She would never do something so rash, or let herself be pulled along like that, ever again.

Nor, she lamented, should she ever lead another soul to believe that was what she wanted. Would it prevent her from finding someone? Maybe. But if that was the case she would be the happier for it. Surely living the rest of your days alone is better than just being a body for someone to use.

Jack didn't think of her like that, did he? Supposing he didn't. Supposing, that Elora's flirtations had been to much, had been too promising. Had she let him down?

They were both at fault, she reasoned. One thing was certain. She wasn't going to drink like that again, any time soon.

As she packed, she started to worry. A nagging complaint bit at her heels. She couldn't remember much, it had all been so fast. But he didn't feel like he was using protection. Not that she would know, but, it was better to be safe and a nervous wreck all the way back to Avalar, than sorry.

Besides- what in Summer's name would a Kanga-faun look like? She shivered at the thought, and just in case, placed her hand on her belly. Nuh-uh. Now was not the time to think about morals.

She hurried out of the hotel, down to the inter-world port, gripped by panic. At least, she grumbled, for it was a rather empty solace, she wouldn't have to wait in a long line for the Avalar portal. No one knew where the heck she was going, anyway.

She crossed the threshold at a bit of a run, as if that would break her away from all the bad feelings her encounter had conjured. She was embraced by the cold snap of Winter Tundra's cool night air. The times were all very strange amongst the worlds in Avalar, so she should have expected that though it was midday in Dragon Shore, it was midnight here. She turned to the left, and there was the portal back to Autumn Plains, to the professor's lab and homestead- the place she called home. She felt a little tug at her heartstrings. While the Professor lived with her there, he was elsewhere- infact he had a new laboratory, and new home, in the Forgotten Realms. He often forgot to visit, though he was only a step away thanks to his very own private portal-link between his labs.

Still. When she crossed the threshold into her own home she felt more alone than ever. She had had all the company she could stand in those last three days, but coming home to an empty shell, was the worst sting she had ever felt.

Elora swore at herself, her own brewing headache. She had something more pressing than her own delicate emotions. There was a potential life at stake here. She dumped her suitcase on her bed, plainly made with forest green sheets ready for her return, then bolted back out of the door, her sights set on the portal to Fracture Hills.

The Alchemist. He'd know what to do.


	9. It's called an Apothecary!

* * *

Before I start, I'm sorry if I flooded your inboxes with duplicate chapters- I had a bit of a glitch I had to work out involving the conent. It's fixed now.

Spyro and all his friends belong to the omnipotent frabjuous wonderfulness power of the Great Wizard of Universal. ((I've read too many gelphie fics lately…))

**Author's Note**: I've been waiting to get to this chapter for quite some time. Elora's only just starting to brighten up... But boy does it take some time first!

**Also:** Results are in! I got Two Ds and a B in my A levels. Not quite what I was hoping for, but it matters not! I'm going to Uni!!

* * *

To top it all off, it was raining.

It had come on fast, like a smack to the face with a wet sponge, and it doused her hair after it had only just dried from her hasty shower. She hadn't thought to bring a cloak, though, and was left with quite bare shoulders, dressed in her usual green tank top.

Her hooves carried her hurriedly over the stone path- usually fauns preferred to walk on grass, but in rain like this, the mud wouldn't be welcome. That was the last thing she needed- muddy feet sticking in the space between the flesh of her foot and the rim of the bony hoof itself.

Not like other fauns, she bitterly snipped to herself, and then discarded the thought as she reached the door to the Alchemist's shop. Was it a shop? The old man barely charged for his tonics- only the silly cosmetic things did he ever charge for. In this knowledge, though, Elora had still brought her coin purse, hanging from a leather strap around her waist like a belt. That was one thing she did need- clothing with pockets.

She approached the- perhaps laboratory would be more precise? Although generally no experimentation went on. More accurately it was like a cross between a garden shed and a workshop that split off into two houses on either side. The front door was a wide, round, wooden thing, with a heavy knocker in the centre and a spy hole just above it. There was a little home made sign hung on a wonky nail on the door: Open.

She grasped the knocker- The Horn of Plenty, and rapped three times.

There was a short pause, a curse, and the sound of broken glass being shovelled up.

"Come in!" called a female voice.

Female?

Elora turned the handle and slipped inside, quickly closing the door to abate the growing winds outside. So much for summer, she thought as she sighed wearily, scraping her hooves on the doormat to clean off the water.

"Ah! Elora! How was your- Great Scot. You're soaking wet!"

Elora hadn't caught sight of her before she had disappeared from the room again, but she knew that voice, and that hurried clip-clack of cloven hooves on the stone.

"Brogan! Fancy seeing-" she began, for she wasn't sure why she would be here, unless-

"Oh! Oh, of course, you did mention that you worked for the Alchemist, didn't you."

"Yes, yes. Grandfather's rather poorly, today." Brogan replied from a room to the side, and Elora distinctly heard the rustle of fabric. She didn't want to be polite and tell her not to get her a towel, or even a coat to dry off with- her skin was goosepricked, and she was starting to shiver, the cold of the sudden rain gripping her only now she was in the warm. Taking the moment as an opportunity, she looked around.

To her immediate right, there was a wooden bench. It looked to be a pew, of some sort, from an old Satyr temple, and was carved. A makeshift waiting room, perhaps. But the rest of the room was far more interesting. Constructed in sturdy stone, it looked very much like the inside of a cottage, but the roof was domed, and the whole room was circular. There was a hole directly in the centre of the ceiling- and Elora had noticed from the outside what appeared to be a tin hat over the top to prevent rain getting in, but allow smoke to get out. Directly underneath the vent was a cauldron suspended by a metal frame over a fire-pit, which was just barely flickering. She shuffled forward, and felt the heat warm the tips of her hooves up to the fur of her hocks. A little better. And around the room, were custom built racks, stands, and cupboards- some held pots of different sizes, and utensils, too- everything from delicate, small shears, to a ridiculously large hammer and anvil, perhaps to crush bones. Others were more domestic- jars and pots of prepared, gooey substances, from simple jams to snake's eyeballs, all carefully labelled and ordered by some mad logic or another. All around the fire were smaller wooden benches, a few metal cups on small side tables. A kind of gathering area. Amongst them were two armchairs, though- one had a kind of mechanism to raise one's legs and recline the back, the other had a build in desk that could be brought up, with a quill and ink holder in the arms. Everything seemed purpose built, and in it's place.

Just as Elora was admiring the pungent odours of the hanging herbs, Brogan returned from the side room with a woollen cloak, and for perhaps the first time, Elora was glad to have something tenderly wrapped around her shoulders.

"You poor thing!" Brogan chided in her Satyr-ish accent. "What were you doing out without a coat?"

"If I had known it was raining cats and dogs here I would have come prepared."

"Ah." Scoffed Brogan. "Alright, well, don't you go getting a chill. Now, how was your holiday?"

The grey Satyr- and she was sure of it now, if she hadn't been sure before. She was taller, and much… well, goatier than any faun she'd ever known. She was much furrier, too, while her skin was a creamy pink, little flecks of grey fur graced her cheeks and sideburns, and her ears were _covered_ in fur. The jingle of the gold earrings from those long- every long, in fact, sticky out ears as they twitched to face her even as she moved across the room to the armchair with the desk attachment- well. It just reminded her of the strange Cow-creatures from Zephyr. Definitely goat-like, for sure.

For a moment she had forgotten she had been asked a question.

"Oh! Sorry. My holiday..."

"Aye, that. You're home early, aren't you?"

"Oh, well, no reason. I did what I needed to do…"

"So… you just came round for a chat?"

Elora had, quite despite herself, boxed herself into a lie-corner. She hadn't meant to, but she had also quite forgotten why she was here.

_Must be all the… tension, from what happened last night_, She reasoned. _Must be._

But Brogan spoke again, as Elora fumbled her words.

"I get it. It's okay, really. I get it all the time."

"Sorry?"

"You'd rather see my Grandfather." Brogan sighed, ears drooping slightly. She stopped Elora from speaking again, to continue.

"It's common, really, don't feel bad. Most people have had him as their physician, and confidante, for many years more than I've been in the world. And it's natural that when I step in to take his place, I might not be quite so trusted with that many years of rapport and secrets. I wish I could bring him in for whatever it is, Elora, but he's bedridden I'm afraid." Worry struck at her features and she faltered, giving the faun a chance to cut in.

"Brogan, no, it… it doesn't matter who I see. In fact, actually, another girl might be what I need."

The grey satyr perked up instantly, her ears suddenly erect and jangling.

"Really?" she forgot herself, and her ears levelled again. "Sorry, heh. Never been told that before. C'mere." She leant sideways and patted the seat behind her.

Elora paused, and gulped, then slowly padded across the stone floor to the seating ring around the fireplace, clutching the cloak tight to her chest as she settled down into the chair beside Brogan's, a little nervous that she would have to make a confession to her, that she herself wasn't all that cosy with.

But at least the fire felt good.

"So, Elora." Brogan began, doing her best to be professional around the woman she so admired. "What seems to be the matter?"

"Well…" the red head began- she inhaled, then exhaled, and with it she rushed out her confession. "I need an emergency tonic."

"…Oh." Brogan said ominously.

"Oh? What do you mean 'Oh'?!" Elora demanded.

"Nothing! Nothing at all, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like... that. No. I meant- well I wasn't sure what you meant, until-" Brogan fought for her words, and she saw Elora looking visibly hurt. She tried to smile.

"I'm sorry, really. I know just the thing."

"What did you think I meant?" Elora pressed.

"I don't know, but I sure know what you mean now!"

Angrily the faun snapped again, even as the Satyr rose and went to a cabinet of ready made tonics.

"And what might that be?"

"A menstrual cycle jumper."

Brogan was as calm as ever, though looked slightly threatened, and her ears were held very low.

"…Sorry?"

"A morning after tonic. When you're not looking to conceive."

Elora slumped back in the armchair.

"That's the stuff."

"It's becoming, well, disreputably popular amongst a niche set of fauns in the high school, at the moment-"

"Oh, and you think I'm part of this 'niche set'? What, you think I'm some kind of… some kind of hussy?"

Brogan paled.

_It's just hormones, it's just hormones, it's just hormones, it's just hormones…_

"Nooo!" she replied with just a little whine, stamping her hoof. "Not at all! I would never think that of you, Elora."

She returned to the circle with the flask of translucent liquid, with the vague label of 'Oops' on the side for identification. She also held a sizable syringe.

"Now, please. Relax. If I was a judgemental person I would not be in this job."

Elora felt bad, and worse, stupid, looking up at the satyr from the chair, curling a little into the warm cloak.

"I'm sorry, Brogan."

"Not at all. Like I said, I get it a lot. It's going to be a tough quarter century till people start to get used to me being here."

Brogan sat beside her, pulling up the desk feature, and prepared the syringe. Knowing what was coming next; Elora shuffled the cloak around her, so she was sitting with her right arm exposed.

"So, you're the Alchemist's grand-daughter?" Elora tried to make conversation, staring ahead at the cauldron to try and distract herself from the necessary injection.

"Mmhrm. Grandchild, Successor, and Apprentice." Brogan replied, flicking the tip of the needle.

"A word of advice." She added.

"Yes?"

"Don't prepare yourself. Look straight ahead, keep me out of your peripheral vision, and tell me- how many herbs over there can you name?"

Elora was now just seeing the rack of particularly placed herbs above the doorframe. She was conscious of Brogan's warm hand moving around to hold her upper right arm, and she tensed just for a moment, but at the satyr's tutting, relaxed again. The question was quite a surprise, and she felt something cool rest against her arm, then went to work naming them.  
"Oh, erm… let's see, now, that's Lavender, there."

"How do you know?" Brogan cut in, making her think.  
"It's purple, duh. Next one is… Thyme?"  
"Which one is Parsley?" The grey satyr said again. Elora wondered if she'd ever inject her already.  
"Way on the right, second to last."  
"Good. All done."  
"Now, then, I think number three is Rosemary…"

There was a pause. Elora looked around. Her arm was bare except for a red pin-prick mark.  
"That's it?"  
"That's it!" Brogan echoed and beamed. "And you did all the hard work for me!"

Leaning back, rather stunned, Elora regarded the Satyr.  
"That's amazing. I've never once enjoyed taking a shot!"

"Aww, shucks, now stop it."

"No, really. You have an absolute knack. Just, next time… don't insinuate during diagnosis." She chided.

The satyr rolled her eyes.

"I insinuated nothing; you just took it the wrong way."

"Mmhrm. Did I get any of the herbs right?"  
"One. Lavender." Brogan chirped, taking the flask away, and stopped on the way back to drop the needle part of the syringe into the cauldron. Elora realized now why it was even bubbling at all- it was a means of sterilization. Crude, but effective considering there was no electricity yet in the majority of Avalar.

"Now." Brogan began anew, just as Elora was sitting up, wondering about leaving. "Sit back down, if you would. We're not quite done yet."

Elora looked almost nervous.  
"The healing process is, and always has been, a two fold matter. I have fixed your body, but your mind remains torn, yes?"

"Well…"

"I m obligated to at least allow you the chance to talk about… well, anything that's bothering you."

"Ugh, don't get me started…"

Brogan leaned back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other, intent and ready to listen.  
"No, I mean… Really, don't get me started." Elora corrected.  
"Oh, come now. You came in with such a look of dread. I must warn you that keeping bad thoughts bottled up inside generally makes for an ill body."

Elora looked sceptical.

"I can't go through my whole life confessing all my innermost thoughts, just to get them out."

"Why not?" Brogan returned quickly, a perfectly professional look, leaning her chin on her knuckles. She certainly looked interested.

"Well… because. I wouldn't have time… I never have time for anything, let alone dealing with emotional bull."

"…How does that make you feel?"

That took Elora right back.  
"I… I feel rushed."  
"Rushed? Go on."  
"Rushed, as in… I'm working towards a goal I can't achieve. I feel like, all this time, since Spyro left… I've been working my tail off for something."  
There was a twinkle in Brogan's eye.  
"I know that you've been overseeing a lot of the rebuilding work, and also the reuniting of stricken families, broken homes…" Brogan interceded, and Elora felt good for a moment to let her talk, before she let too much slip her.  
"Do you feel stressed, at all, seeing that so regularly, in your position of power?"

"Of course I do! I wouldn't be a decent faun if I saw nothing wrong with that!" Elora snapped defensively. Brogan tried a different angle.  
"But, do you think that the stress is too much to bear?"  
Elora paused, and raised her head slightly.  
"…Sometimes."

"And how do those times feel?"  
"…Awful."

"Awful." Brogan echoed, nodding solemnly. "You said before you felt that, you could not achieve your goals. What is your goal?"  
"Oh, you know. The usual stuff. Find inner peace, settle down with a husband and children, the whole nine yards." Replied Elora, trying the fluff it off with a nervous laugh.  
"Inner peace?" Brogan pressed.  
"A moment of rest." Elora amended. "Some time to let my hair down."

Interestingly, when Brogan sat back, so did Elora.  
"Interesting you should say that."  
"Why?"  
"You've just come back from a break. Albeit a short lived one."

Now came the topic Elora dreaded.  
"Well…" she began. "It was meant to be longer. I wanted to take the whole week out."  
"You only stayed three days.  
"I know." Said Elora, raising a hand. "I know. I didn't want to come home, but… Something bad happened. Really bad."

Brogan's face grew almost frighteningly serious.  
"Is this… bad thing why you needed the tonic, today?"  
Elora nodded, and felt tears well in her eyes again. Painfully slowly, she retold the tale of her fleeting day with Jack Daniels the Kangaroo. She left out the details, but she reported how nice it was to be flirtatious and girly for once, but as one thing lead to another…

"To top it all off," Elora sniffed, for now she was truly weeping. The armchair arrangement made it impossible for Brogan to scoot over and offer a hug, but she held out her hand anyway.  
"To top it all off, it still hurts." She whimpered. Brogan stood.  
"Ah," She replied, soothingly hushed. "I've got just the thing." As she moved away to fetch something from a drawer of other somethings.  
"And you know what sucks?" Elora continued, raising her voice and sniffing violently. "…What sucks is, he's not only ruined… love making for me, but beer, too. I don't think I could look at ale the same way, now!"  
"Hush…" Brogan cooed as she brought over a small wooden circular container. The inside was covered in a smooth, disinfected metal, but Elora couldn't see much of that as the pot was put under her nose. The creamy substance inside looked freshly set. It was a light pinkish colour.  
"This is a painkiller, and wound cleanser. It hurts because it's…well, open. It's a fresh cut, let's say." Brogan explained dutifully, and screwing the cap onto the box, she handed it over. She also produced what looked like a bundle of swabs- a long, wooden splint with a softened bud of wool on the end, strung in place.  
"If it doesn't stop aching in a week, come back and tell me. The ointment is free, unless you want to clean the box out and keep it, in which case I wouldn't mind a few gems for it."  
"And the swabs?" Elora asked slyly.  
"The ones you don't use, err, you can have 'em. The ones you use, obviously, throw away."  
The faun went for a pocket, but realized she had none on her, so she idly held the pot in her hands.  
Brogan fidgeted.  
"If I may be so bold…Do you feel any better, now, Elora?"  
"…I do, a little. I still feel really… dumb, for what I did, but talking about it feels a lot better."

Brogan smiled knowingly.  
"We all make stupid mistakes, Elora." She agreed, but to the red head it sounded just a little cliché. "That's why they're 'miss takes'. We can only but try."  
"But this little screw up cost me something very dear." Elora struggled to reply, clutching the pot, and cloak, tightly to her chest. "I've been saving myself for the right guy, and one comes along and just takes it like it's nothing! I know it's not his fault, it's not like anyone else thinks like I do…"

"Ah." Brogan interrupted. "But that's where you're wrong. Very wrong."  
Elora looked up, sceptical again.  
The satyr continued.  
"When I was younger, hastier, driven by my own hormones, I too made a very costly mistake."  
"You gave it away?"  
Brogan closed her eyes, hanging her head. Her ears drooped considerably, but there was a bittersweet smile on her lips, as she turned her head away.  
"No. I took one."  
Elora sat right up, and her ears twitched, which they weren't often wont to do.  
"You…took one?" She wasn't naive. Or, at least, she didn't think she was, but recent evidence to the contrary. She just wanted to make sure she heard it right.  
"Oh yes." Brogan smirked, unnerving the poor girl beside her. "I regret it, only because it besmirched my good name, for a time. But the people of Fracture Hills tend to forget easily the misguided judgement of youth. Especially when they are the next up and coming physician."  
"I don't think I understand." Elora quivered. "You took someone's virginity? Why?"

Brogan shrugged.  
"She wanted me to."

_She. _Oh dear, oh dear.

"She was really sweet. But she was too young for me, and I should have known better."  
"Were you prosecuted?"  
Brogan blinked. "Oh, heavens above, not _that_ young!"  
This little fact relieved Elora _to no end_.

"I see. So you slept with her."  
"On her graduation night." Brogan remembered fondly. "She had passed with flying colours. I thought she was ready. She thought she was ready. She was so sweet."  
The satyr started to sink lower and lower into the armchair.  
"How did that make you feel…" Elora fumbled.

And only made Brogan grimace.  
"…Err… This is not the time to ask that question."  
Elora blanched. "Not intentional! Not what I meant!"  
Brushing it off, Brogan sighed quietly.  
"It was daft. Really daft. Since then I've remained, hermit-like, and chaste."  
"You think… You think that's what I should do?"  
"What?" Brogan cried. "No! Not for the world! It's a living hell. Once you've dipped your hoof in love's turbulent waters, you can't just back up and dry off."  
Elora felt just a little taken by the sudden poetry.  
"That's…"  
"Not mine, I'm afraid. A gentleman bard told me that little one."

"Oh. I was about to say, it's very touching."

There was a tense little silence.  
"So." Brogan broached. "As I said. Don't feel bad. Feel bad, for a time, for the loss of your innocence. But in time you may see it as a rite of passage, into true adulthood. But you will thank yourself, perhaps, later on, when you find the man you love and you don't have to worry about getting around that painful little detail."  
She said 'man' with just the twinge of disappointment.  
"But, Brogan." Elora challenged, quietly. "Some men find it insulting if a woman is unbroken before marriage."

"Then they are not worth your affection, my dear, to be such pigs about matters out of their control." Retorted the satyr shamelessly, and halted another silence before it could come, by sitting up.  
"You should get your period over night, but it may take a day or two. The drug should override the normal cycle, but, sometimes it doesn't work. Don't let it go past four days. See me immediately if it doesn't come by then. As for the- err, pain, just treat that as necessary. If it doesn't stop aching in the same five days, see me."

Elora remained seated, however, looking up in a mixture of confusion and astonishment.  
"How do you do it?"  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"How do you manage to think so… so differently from everyone else?"  
Brogan gestured around the room.  
"This. I live mostly alone, save for my grand parents next door, and people rely on me. Most of my clients, however, refrain from asking personal questions. So it never comes up. I keep my secrets as closely as theirs."  
Elora tilted her head slightly to one side. "Did I overstep a boundary?"  
"Absolutely not. Step over it any time you like. No, really, do drop by." Brogan insisted as Elora stood and giggled, just a little woozy from the shot- it would have been much worse, she could tell, if she hadn't sat down to chat. It all made sense, in the end.  
"Alright. I'll try and intrude on your privacy sometime next week."  
"Aye. Do let me know how everything is. I look forward to another chat."  
"Next time, maybe, I won't ask so much about you, if I'm a 'client' now."  
Brogan stood at the door, and Elora approached to leave, her pot clutched delicately in her hands, the swabs stowed in an inside pocket revealed by the satyr. And just for a moment, Elora stepped closer, and embraced the older creature tenderly.  
"Thank you." She said, very quietly, as Brogan lifted the latch. The wind was sucked inside the door, and was very brisk, and damp with harsh rain.  
"Err, Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay until this passes?" panted Brogan as she shut the door again to abate the angry gale.  
Elora searched her expression, for a moment. Her hackles were up, now. After the strangely personal exchange, and her nasty run in at Dragon Shores, she didn't want to take chances.

Especially now that she knew what she knew.  
"I appreciate it, but, I have lab rats to feed, and I have to unpack. And get dinner going, if I want to eat."

"Can't I send you with something? Some bread, maybe, something in case this storm's gotten to Autumn Plains too?"  
"No, really, it's fine..."  
"And don't you dare take that cloak off until you're inside with the door locked."  
"I won't, I promise."  
Only then did Brogan hasten a smile, and gently cracked the door open, letting Elora slip out into the heavy downpour. She watched her go, the light from inside the Apothecary shining out onto the path through the door, as a last good gesture. When the faun was out of sight, Brogan pushed the door to, then slammed her back against it with a heavy sigh.  
"Women."


	10. The Professor is a Geek

* * *

Spyro is the enslaved property of Universal. Brogan is mine. The written word is free to all who can wield it, but this particular collection of vowels and consonants in this particular order, is my brainchild.

**Author's Note:** Dedicated to Razzek, who deserves a little cheering after all that's happened to her favourite faun.

* * *

The house was made of a series of domes- not all that dissimilar in shame from Brogans, as seemed to be traditional amongst Avalarian dwellings. But there was a distinctly stoic, cut-line feel about the place. After all, first and foremost, this was the Professor's home, which he had left to Elora when he moved on to work in the Forgotten Realms, aiding Spyro's adventures and the new adventures of Agent 9, the…enthusiastic space monkey.

Elora was still clutching the cloak around her as she unlocked the door into her home, and wiped her hooves on the mat before she stepped inside. Closing the front door behind her, and turning the lock until it slid home, was like a happy release. Finally, this day was done for good.

As she moved through the hallway, still not taking off the cloak, she made a little checklist of what to do next. Take the ointment into the kitchen, stow it in the refrigerator (the professor's more useful invention) and then set up the hearth with a nice fire, and curl up with a nice book on government law.

But as she stepped into the living area, she heard a loud noise down another hallway- it was coming from the laboratory.

Elora's gut wrenched. Someone must have broken in, or a rat could have escaped from its cage. She broke into a trot, her hooves echoing down the hall and throughout the house. She skidded to a halt just outside the laboratory door, and grasped the door handle, wrenching it open to a familiar sound.

"Ah-hah!"

She almost collapsed, and at the same time rushed into the whitewashed room.

"Professor!"  
"Ah! Elora!" The mole replied before he was aggressively hugged by his adoptive daughter. "Oh my, heh! Hello, dear, yes, hello… Steady on, now, and…do put me down."

Grudgingly Elora set him back to his feet, a long way down.

"What's brought you home, Professor?"

She would have called him Dad. She could get away with it in her early days, but it still made him uncomfortable, so for his sake, unless it slipped from her, she referred back to his title.

"Oh, just coming home in time for the Convention this weekend. But, I also needed to check on some atmospheric tests, portal calculations and the like." He replied as he started to sweep up the broken glass from the test tube he had knocked over- the sound that Elora had been alerted to. Then he picked up the rat cage that he had spilt the liquid into, and peered through the bars.

"Oh my. Well, it didn't seem to cause any abrasions or harm to the poor creature… but it's turned her fur green. Very interesting." He made a note on his ever present clipboard, and then faced the faun.

"How is the reinstatement of the Council coming along, Elora?"

"A success. A surprising success, in fact!"

"Wonderful news!" the Professor praised, putting down his writing implement for a moment. High praise indeed, to distract him from his own calculations.

"And how is your work in the Realms?"

"Very well, indeed. Every scrap of land has been charted, thanks to the help from the locals, and we're starting to see some real progression with the return of Magic to the land."

There was a pregnant pause between them, as the scientist turned away from the politician.

"And…" Elora began, hoping he would pick up on her lead. They had discussed this many times before, after all. "Any…any sign of them, Professor?"

The mole stiffened, before turning around.

"No, Elora."

The faun sighed through her nose, dejected. Well, no news may have been better than bad news, especially after this week.

Speaking of which, the Professor erred by bringing up the notion that she had taken a holiday to Dragon Shores.

"I spoke to Hunter and Bianca, while I was there. They said that you seemed…"

"Seemed what?"

"Well… a little off. They wondered if there was something the matter."

"What's not _'the matter'_ right now?"

"Elora." The Professor intoned sharply, in a very parental way despite himself. "If it's about that blasted dragon…"

Elora searched herself. Actually, Spyro was right at the end of her list of issues. She started to recount her week- and omitted some things. They were close, but not quite close enough to discuss the complex problems with intimate relationships. She did explain, though, that Jack wanted to go to a level of relationship that she was not comfy with, how that had stressed her, and how she had gone to the Apothecary to deal with sun-sickness. A slight bend of the truth.

"I…see." The Professor struggled with the very personal feelings and emotions of most people, but sometimes Elora was truly beyond him. His compassion, at least, however…vague, was comforting. "Well, I'm sure you can make it up to Hunter and Bianca by attending their wedding. You are happy for them, aren't you, Elora?"

"Of course I am, Professor." Elora replied, surprised he would ask. "I'm not jealous or anything. Hunter and I…its water under the bridge, you know that."

"Just checking." He chided, rolling his eyes and grinning. At least the faun sounded a little more cheery.

"Dad-." Elora started, forgetting herself. But she wasn't corrected, so she pressed on. "You know, I'm really grateful for everything you've done, for me."

"Why, whatever do you mean, Elora?"

"Everything, Professor. I may be twenty long years old, but I still appreciate you. You know that, right?"

"Of course I-…Oh. I think I see what you're getting at."

Elora almost collapsed against a workbench close by. "Oh good." She huffed. "I didn't want to have to say it. But you can't blame me, can you-"

"Hush, child." The Professor cut in, with a surprising tenderness, as he moved towards a filing cabinet, rooted through the folders, selecting a notebook out of one. "I agree with you. I think it's time you knew the truth."

The _truth? _Elora had been expecting an argument, not an admission.

"You mean… You know? You…You've lied all this time? You know where my parents are?"

"No, Elora." He replied with great gravity, clutching the spiral bound book in his paws. "I have never lied to you. I don't know who your parents are. But I do know how you got here. And it's high time you knew."

Elora barely restrained herself as she followed the Professor into the room where his private portals were, to the broken one to the far left. At least, she had been sure it was broken. She hadn't come into this room for some time, as many of the mid-repair portals that she had once used from this room were long moved out into the public. Now, the older stone arch was humming quietly, although there was no thin gauze of mist and mire that signalled a working portal. But across the archway were floating golden words-

"Someplace Else" Elora read quietly to herself.

"This one, here. I was trying to open a gateway that had been long collapsed. When I put in the co-ordinates, it sucked you through, still wrapped in your blanket as a young fawn."

Her ears twitched at the familiar tale that he had told her since she had realized she wasn't a mole, and wasn't biologically his. But always, he had cautioned her that there was no way back. She gathered that this fact was about to change forever.

"There's something I ought to tell you, Elora. My recent work, this last month, has had nothing to do with the Dragon Realms. Only yesterday did I return, and that's when I spoke to Hunter-"

"-Nothing, Professor?"

"Nothing."

So he had lied.

"Then…You've been in Someplace Else. Where…Where does it go?"

"Someplace else, of course."

"How can you be so _obtuse_ at a time like this?" Elora whined.

Elora wanted to go. She wanted to see exactly what this place was like. So many questions that could not be answered without dipping her hoof into the grey fog of a portal…

But she wouldn't go without The Professor. The implications of such were too great. To leave him at the slightest notion of finding her biological parents, and solve the mystery of what exactly she really was- she had greater discipline than that, and she owed him more. As he turned to leave the room, she followed, which made the mole stop.

"What is it?"  
"Well, it's offline."

"Oh, my, so it is. I left it locked to avoid draining power from their own portals. Here, let me unlock it for you-"

"Hold it. I'm not going. Not without you."

"But, surely you're anxious, my girl. And I'm not going back for a few days yet."

"How many?" Elora pressed, just a little impatient.

"Five days, the scientist's convention in Metropolis is over this weekend. If it's anything like last year, it'll be a real hum-dinger! I'll need the extra day's rest."

Elora restrained herself from groaning. He was a nice guy, but oh boy, was he a geek.

"That's perfect. I have a couple loose ends to tie, and a meeting on the fifth day with…a friend. We'll go on the sixth day?"

Sighing as his schedule seemed just as jam-packed as Elora's, the Professor nodded.

"Alright, then. We'll rendezvous in six days, but I'm not telling you any details about Someplace Else until- well, you'll see for yourself. I have to keep some kinds of surprises for my all-knowing, all-seeing charge." He started towards the door again, but Elora stopped him once more.

She got to her knees, so she was more at his height, and put her arms around him. He conceded to the hug with a sigh, and gave her just a little squeeze in return.  
"I love you, Dad." She mumbled, resting her head on his smaller shoulder.

But, the Professor felt his touch-me-not nerve twinge, and he slipped out of the embrace, reaching up to ruffle Elora's hair as he had done when she was barely on her own hooves.

"You're a good girl, Elora. You always have been. I'm just sorry that I couldn't convince you that science was the way forward."  
"I never said it wasn't." the faun complained. "Just, I can't see myself in a lab coat."  
"Well, it's good that you aren't. Avalar needs you, my girl." Replied the mole in another rare gesture of tenderness beyond friendship and more into fatherhood. Maybe he was starting to come around, after all this time. "I'm proud of you. Oh! Now stop that, don't start tearing up! You know I never carry a handkerchief."

"Sorry." Elora whimpered, standing up and waving her hand in front of her face as if to fan the tears back into place. "I'm just, proud of you, too."

"Oh, c'mon now. Why don't you go inside and be comfortable, for once, go put your feet up."

Ah, yes, that's what she had been going to do. Elora nodded, beaming as she passed the Professor and made her way back towards the living room.

"Oh, by the way." The Professor called after her. "Is that a new cloak? I don't think I've seen you in that one, before."

She had quite forgotten that Brogan's loaned cloak was still around her shoulders, and she looked at it blankly.

"I, uh… It was raining, and the Alchemist gave me this, for the journey home."

"It suits you." He replied absently as he started making observations about the newly green rat, who was now peering at her reflection in her water dish, apparently trying to use the water to prop the fur on her scalp up to make a neat Mohawk between her yellow ears.

Elora left the room with a look of bliss.


	11. A Pox on White Belly Fur!

* * *

Disclaimer Here about Spyro belonging to Universal and how I'm merely a lowly wordsmith with a lot of time on my paws. Doesn't change the fact that the words herein, in their particular orders, belong to me, because I made them that way.

**Author's note**: Fast Forwarding through five days, and ensuring there are no plot holes. Some Brolora for my number one (and possibly sole) fan, because she needed this after all her patience. And frankly so did I! It's about time this fic cheered up a little!

**Also:** This little arc, this line of plot- is not the end. Oh Crumbs No. There will be far more after this. I have not yet BEGUN to write.

* * *

The weekend progressed with a tiring tedium. Usually Elora enjoyed making the rounds of the many worlds, stopping for lunch with the gem cutters (and forcibly refusing many offers of custom made necklaces from the finest of Glimmer stones) and generally seeing that no short Saurians were getting delusions of grandeur on her watch.

But it was hell! While curiosity gnawed at her, everything seemed so much duller. The day would never come, she was sure of it. She had almost threatened herself with the trip to Metropolis to join the Professor in his Geek Fest thing. That close!

For once, she was glad to get her period. It came the day after her visit to the Alchemist- Brogan, she should call her, really- just as promised. And while it gave her the unfortunate annoyance of having to wear actual clothing on her legs, at least it was one less thing for her to chew her nails over.

Not to mention…Well. I'm sure you can imagine the problems that incurs when you have white belly fur. _(Moving swiftly on…)_

So, for the surprisingly short duration of the cycle reboot, she went awkwardly about her business in a pair of Khaki shorts that cut off just below the first joint in her leg as well as a tube top in a slightly darker shade. And never once, no matter what temperature it was outside, did she take off that cloak. She supposed she should leave it at home, keep it from getting unintentionally damaged- but she enjoyed all the compliments from the creatures she visited. And for the Professor to compliment her on a choice of garment was such a rare thing!

In hindsight, she guessed, it did suit her. Red and green- they certainly were her colours.

She wore a blush everywhere she went. After such a strange half-holiday, all the stresses she had incurred. With this cloak on she felt secure, and strong. Perhaps it was spelled? It did smell strongly of herbs, and the faint, musky goaty scent that she assumed was Brogan's doing.

Brogan… Maybe she had misjudged her. The revelation of her sexuality, and startlingly liberal views, had given her just a moment's pause. But, was she really all that different from Elora herself? Certainly, the faun wasn't homophobic. Quite the contrary. After all, if she had been willing, nay, aspiring to be in love with a dragon, of all things… How could she criticize? And the satyr had been so calming, so non judgemental herself. Had she wronged her?

Perhaps. But if she had truly hurt her, she reasoned, she wouldn't have been invited back. And back was exactly where she was going.

**

There was a rap at the door, and just as the poor elder satyr looked up, Brogan jerked her hand back, and the rotted tooth came with it. Luckily the application of the local nerve-number had been successful, and all the poor dear felt was a little tug.

"Come in!" she called over her shoulder, but she wasn't about to leave her patient, kindly encouraging her to keep her mouth held agape so that she could apply the cleansing ointment to the opened gum, and start setting in the porcelain molar.

Elora let herself in when she heard the call, and as quietly as her hooves would allow, she shut the door behind her and moved towards the pew to the side, the cloak still draped across both shoulders.

Brogan was just tamping down the adhesive when she saw the faun out of the corner of her eye, and gave her a wink.  
"There we are, Mrs Fortesque. Give me a smile!"  
The old satyr beamed, and the porcelain tooth was straightly set, although it looked so bright and new compared to her stained and chipped teeth.  
"Much better. Now, bite down on it, with some force, and keep a constant pressure on it for one minute- that'll set the glue in place, and it shouldn't wiggle after that. Don't play with it, keep it just as it is, I'll be back in a moment."

Then she turned, and moved across the room to where the faun was sat. She was wearing a white cloth over her mouth as she worked, and a light blue tunic with pockets all over for dental tools. She pulled the cloth down around her neck as she left her patient to lie back in the reclining chair and keep her new tooth in place.  
"Elora, it's good to see you, but-" She glanced at the shorts. Only one thing that could mean.  
"Yeah, everything's fine." She intoned, that really meant, _don't ask about what we're both thinking about._

"Good, good, glad to hear it. Brought the pot back?"  
"I'd actually kind of like to keep it, if that's alright. I didn't use it all but, I figured the salve might… come in handy." Elora pushed some gems into Brogan's hand, and the satyr couldn't help but grin. Income was very nice, no matter whom it came from, or wherefore.

"Ah, yes, that's perfectly fine. Nice boxes aren't they?" she bluffed, making small talk, and glancing nervously over at her patient.  
"Did you just come to take the worry off my shoulders, or are you hear for the talking cure, too?"  
"Well, yes and no. If I say no, you'll tell me I should talk to you anyway, whether it's a chat or one of _your_ talks."

Brogan snorted as she turned around. "Don't say it like that, it's better than a kick in the teeth. Oh, sorry, Mrs Fortesque…"

The older satyr waved her hand dismissively, as Brogan went over to check on her.

A few minutes later, and the patient was back on her feet, had paid the greatly discounted fee, and was seen out of the door into the bright noonday sun.

Elora moved closer to the cauldron while Brogan went about removing the towels she had laid over the chair for her minor operation, and excused herself from the room to remove her dental scrubs. Peeking inside, the faun wondered curiously what it could be- it was bright blue, and pungent, with a kind of fresh-mint after taste that caught her in the throat as she inhaled the steam. It was thick, too, and large bubbles formed on the surface as she watched.

"Don't huff that stuff too much, Elora." Brogan warned as she reappeared in a different shirt, a casual dark blue affair that was cut to her figure.  
"What is it?"  
"Locust Poison."  
The faun stumbled away from it looking disgusted, and the satyr sniggered.  
"Kidding! It's just soup for my grandfather. It's his own recipe, but even he doesn't like it. But it'll open his airways up better than anything."

"What's ailing him?" Elora queried as she took a seat on the armchair, and Brogan took the seat beside her. She looked, for a moment, rather queasy herself.  
"Lung Infection. It comes with the turf, really. All his life standing over weird concoctions and breathing in fumes… Should have seen it coming. In any case, he's actually looking up. At least, he's not coughing up nasty orange gunk, any more.

Elora grimaced. What a _charming_ visual.

"How are you, Elora?"

"I'm fine, Brogan, but there's more to it than that. I'm ecstatic. Don't grin at me like that, fuzzball, I'm getting to why. As long as we're in confidance, here… There's something I should talk about.

Every since I was little, I knew I was different. I wasn't the same colours as the other fauns, my horns had never grown in. And my hooves… they're not this shape naturally. I cut them into this shape, when I was younger, and I've kept them carved this way to this day. Even the fur on my tail is longer than most fauns have it! I've never understood why. I didn't let it get me down, but, I always figured it was something strange- a mutation, or a weird cross breed.

But, it didn't really matter too much. I had The Professor- as far as I was concerned he was my father. I couldn't ask for a better one. He's raised me, and taken care of me all these years, I see no reason not to call him that, and think of him that way. But one way or another I was going to have to realize that I wasn't a native of Autumn Plains.

And, perhaps I should have figured it sooner. The Professor always told me that I wound up on his doorstep through an experimental portal he had been working on- and that the portal was destroyed during the transfer. But, just last week, he told me… that he's opened it again. He's gone to the place I was born, and… He's met the people that could be my parents. Brogan, I'm not sure how to say this, but when he told me I came from 'Someplace Else', he was telling me more about myself than I've ever really known."

She slumped back into the chair and sighed. But it was a happy sigh, and as she reclined the chair slightly back to put her hooves up, she almost felt proud of her 'unique' features.

"That's… That's wonderful, Elora." Brogan spluttered. "I never saw anything different about you, other than your tenacity- your drive to succeed and lead Avalar to a better state of being. But this- I'm happy for you."

Elora wondered what it was that dulled the usual twinkle in Brogan's eye as she said that, but the satyr continued before she had a chance to think it twice. And all at once the calm, rock-stable air of professionalism was dashed as Brogan's excitement brimmed over, and she leant in to press more information out of the faun.

"So, you feel at peace with yourself, knowing that you have a homeworld? Have you been there? What's it like?"

"I don't know yet. The Professor is going back tomorrow, so I've still got a little while to wait."

"Are you excited?"

"..." Elora paused, and then slowly started to grin. "Well…Yeah. I am! I really am. I want to know all about this lost world- and why it got lost. What it's people are like. I mean, I might not even look like them, I have no idea, and the Professor isn't giving away anything yet."

Brogan leant back in her chair, crossing one hock over the other.  
"How does it feel, finally going home?"  
"What do you mean?" Elora spoke quietly, dismissing Brogan's wry grin. "Autumn Plains is my home. This is my home. Nothing can ever change that. Even if I find my birth mother and my long lost brothers and sisters, even if I find true love in this, 'Someplace Else', it won't be home. I've grown up in the three homeworlds of Avalar, and I feel at peace here. That's what makes it home."

There was just a little pause between them, as Elora smiled shyly under Brogan's searching, but approving gaze.

"I'm glad you think that way, Elora." Brogan replied in a hush.  
"What, you think I'd just abandon you guys and run off to a different country?" Elora scoffed.

"Well, no, I wouldn't think that- but you never know, the Gem Cutters would miss you terribly, I could see a strike happening throughout Glimmer, if you left."

"Uh huh." Elora replied sceptically. "You'd just miss having someone interesting to analyze."

"Oh, touché!"


	12. A Second Reflection

* * *

Spyro belongs to Universal. But not in the Gorean sense, if you know what I mean. I mean that's just absurd. However this peace of fanfiction serves little purpose to me other than great joy, and I get no financial gains from it, and I have no idea how many new ways I can write this disclaimer.

**Author's Note: **I'm a psycho fiend lately when it comes to writing. I have been writing Chapters 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14 non-stop since 9pm, and it's 4am the next day.

I felt that the buffer between 11 and what is now 14 but was going to be 13, was still too short, and I just kept writing tonight. So I decided this needed a chapter of its own. Nothing happens, but if you're a girl reading this you will know _exactly _what she means.

**Also**: The first pangs of what I know Razz has been waiting for arrive here.

* * *

The walk home was soothingly peaceful. Birdsong made the silence of going alone a little easier to bare, and the shadow created by her cloak kept her furred legs from overheating under the essential clothing. Brogan had assured her that the uncomfortable reboot should end tonight, and all evidence supported that. She absentmindedly clutched her stomach as she walked, to soothe the ache- but she gravely reflected on what could have happened if she hadn't been grown up about the whole thing and left the problem to literally incubate. Besides, if she hadn't, not only would she be carrying a child she wasn't ready for, but she wouldn't have started to talk to the Satyr. She must have gotten lonely, there, looking after the Apothecary. And Elora wondered, too, if Brogan thought that she was lonesome in the Professor's Lab.

Was she?

Well of course she was. While things were looking up for her, now, it didn't halt the aching solitude that came with being on the top of the food chain in terms of status. Being Guardian of Avalar essentially made her boss-less, but as her chats with Brogan had revealed, she still felt like she was answering to someone. Perhaps it was herself, or maybe the people she was about to meet tomorrow. Or the Dragon Elders- she would have to impress them when they met in six months.

That's a thought- what if this excursion to Someplace Else brought up political tremors? Surely they'd agree to send an ambassador to the Council, and take part in the slowly forming Republic of Avalar.

But what if they didn't? What if war was on their minds? Could it be, that she might be endangering her kin, by following her dream? By seeking out the knowlege she craved, was she stepping across lines, into a conflict she could never hope to escape?

Now, be reasonable, she told herself as she returned home for the day, taking off the cloak- Which was now her cloak, as Brogan had insisted that she keep it in good will. She settled in the living room, laying out across the couch on her back, her head propped up with a pillow, and a book in her hand. The other hand rested, again, on her settling belly, and her mind wandered away from the cheesy romance printed on the page. She felt her heart crawling up into her throat.

Tomorrow was the day she would find out what she was. This was her last day as an ignorant faun. Whether she became more, or less, all lay in tomorrow's events. She snapped the book shut and the impulse crossed her mind to high tail it to Brogan's house and hug her to quell her sudden, gripping panic. She sat up.

_What?_

Since when did even the fleeting thought cross her mind to go and _forcibly hug someone?_

But the thought lingered all through the evening, as she sipped a small shot of brandy to calm herself down. Not too much, of course, she had not forgotten her promise to herself. And there was another revelation- She hadn't thought of Jack once since her visit to Brogan's home.

"Or Spyro."

She looked down, her tail sagging beside her. Spyro. Oh, Spyro. With each passing day she had thought of him less and less. She was too busy to think about him, now. And with so much going on, who could blame her.

Who could blame him?

"Hunter was right." She told herself. "Really, really right. It's not his fault. If he was chasing my tail every day I'd…No. I won't think about it, now. Save it for next week. Brogan will get a _kick_ out of that one." She rolled her eyes and finished the glass of Brandy, smiling as it hit her stomach and forced the lump back down.

After a long, cleansing shower (unfortunately not the Professor's invention, although he had designed their particular model) that dismissed her concerns that she would have to wear leg-garments on her big day, tomorrow, Elora felt she could finally relax. As the evening drew in, she brushed her hair for a full half an hour, and her tail too. She put loose curlers in her hair as the last little thing, then retired to her bedroom.

She had taken the Master bedroom, now that the Professor was gone more often than not, and the perk of this was a double bed to herself. It had barely changed, all except for a few personal effects, gifts from her friends, and officially endorsed posters of Spyro on her walls, flanked by news clippings about the famous purple dragon's latest escapades. Though she had used the same emerald green paint on the walls that had been in her fawnhood bedroom. The sheets were deep forest green, too, and they were fantastically silky to the touch, comfortable, and not too hot. She knew some fauns, and even some satyrs, that slept on bales of hay. But Elora wouldn't give her bed up for the world.

As she carefully arranged the curls in her hair to avoid crushing them (the last thing she needed tomorrow was a bad hair day) she settled her head on the pillow, and practically sank into a deep, unstirred sleep.


	13. Smoke Alarm, Soup's Up

* * *

Spyro is the property of Universal. I just like screwing around with stuff.

**Author's Note**: For once, I have nothing to say, here. Read on!!

* * *

Elora woke with a start on the dawn of the sixth day. She was barely awake as she pulled on a terry-cloth robe to preserve her modesty, and left the loose curlers in as she made her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and go through the morning rituals with absolute stringency.

She could smell toast being made as she went in. But when she came out, five minutes later, with bouncing, lively hair, bright eyed and quite literally bushy tailed, the warm comforting smell of toast had turned to charcoal. To boot, the smoke alarm was going off.

"Breakfast is ready, Professor?" she called calmly as she peeked through the kitchen door, wrinkling her nose cutely at the black fog that was rising from the toaster.

"My Whiskers! You'd think that with four degrees in Quantum Transportational Magic Mechanics, I'd be able to keep _bread_ from catching alight!"

Eventually, some kind of breakfast was made and eaten without issue, and the burnt slices and peices went to the lab rats. (Save for the green one, who simply turned her nose up at it and went back to her tiny coffee mug and her copy of the _Summer Forest Journal._)

After that, Elora took almost forty five minutes to decide on exactly what she should wear. She was caught between casual and smart-casual, or perhaps fully diplomatic. In the end, after standing topless before her wardrobe with a foul grimace, she went for her green tube top- Less was, invariably, more, and something simple like this would allow her to be comfortable without being over, or perhaps under dressed. Although she did take the cloak, once again, reasoning that it could be chilly despite the unseasonal sunshine.

She found the Professor marvelling over his newly mutated lab rat, his accidental experiment, who had not only let herself out of her cage, but was now standing over his clip board and making corrections to his more iffy calculations.  
"I think I have a new Agent 9, here, Elora." He chirped cheerfully as he observed, peering at her with his coke bottle glasses.  
"I think you might be right" Replied the faun. "Only, a little more Agent, and a little less IQ-level-9."  
"Oh, stop that! At least he's helping with the Rhynoc insurgences. Are you ready to go?"

Elora gulped. "As ready as I'll ever be. One question, though, before we go."  
"What's that?"  
"Do they speak Common Tongue? Will I be able to understand them? Talk to them?"

The Professor grinned, quite slyly. He wasn't about to give anything away yet.  
"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised." He hinted as he hopped off his work stool and walked towards the portal-room door.  
"Damn you, Old Man!" Elora grumbled as she trotted soon after, bidding an awkward, but cheery farewell to the rat who was waving her off, as she disappeared just behind her father into the newly activated portal arch.


	14. Someplace Else

* * *

Spyro's the much maligned property of Universal, but despite this, we love it like a tender orchard apple…

_Okay, where the hell did that come from?_

**Author's Note:** This whole plot like started when Razz slipped me a note about an interview she had with Oliver Wade (Elora's character designer), where he vaguely mentioned that Elora originated from 'Someplace Else'. Thus, here is my take on Someplace Else. It gets a little long in the tooth (hurr hurr) towards the end, but believe me, it was worse before. Originally this was all a part of Chapter 10, but I felt that things had progressed too quickly. I wanted to make you all suffer until the truth was revealed, and also, Elora sounded like a complete bimbo in this chapter and I. Had. To. **Fix**._ That._

Or else Razz would come at me in a black PVC cat suit with a whip made of chains and steel screws.

_And not in the good way._

Thus, I bring you this.

* * *

They arrived on a hill, in the center of a circle made from tall wooden plinths. The rolling countryside went on for miles and miles, it seemed, though the area they were in was flanked by forests, and a fortress-like blockade of earth and wooden fencing.

"I have used the same co-ordinates to locate this place; the same that I used when I found you. I believe that this is the same place, Elora. This… is Someplace Else."

Elora was silent. She had never seen this realm before. She was totally blown away, by the sheer vastness of the place- and so green! The grass was tall, lush, and all around were clumps of wildflowers that gave off a delicious scent as her long tail brushed through them with her steps. And it wasn't quiet, either. On the breeze she could hear the carried sounds of…voices. Voices in a not so disimilar language to her mother tongue.

"Professor…I have to ask you this. Is there a way back home?"

"Of course, Elora. We'll have to go through the portal to Spring Meadows." The mole replied simply as she caught her up, walking just behind her on the path down from the hilltop- the faun noticed that it was paved quite smoothly, without anything to stick up into her hooves- she had never really felt something like this before, except for the smooth metal streets of metropolis, or in some lands where they had kindly tiled the floors and roads. And the last straw for her- She glanced to the side of the path, and found small, semi circular tracks. Something told her they were youngling's tracks. And they looked just like her own, except for the ugly chip she had carved in the center.

"I- I'm sorry. Did you say, Spring Meadows?" Elora stopped short, despite the fact that they were on a rather steep incline, and the Professor urged her to go on to avoid tripping and falling forward, though at least the end of the track was near and flat land was closer now.

"Yes. During the War, the portals to and from Spring Meadows, the ones that linked it with the other three home worlds, were power surged and destroyed."

"What War?" Elora stopped again.  
"Oh my, I'm going to have to explain a lot."

"That won't be necessary, Professor."

Standing before the pair was a dark-furred male faun. Or at least, that's what he appeared to be. His legs were digigrade, like Elora's. His chest was bared, revealing battle scars and _delightfully_ tribal tattoos, and his skin was olive in colour. But he had no horns on his head. His arms were lightly furred along the outside, he had long, pointed ears that were very mobile- and a long tail, quite like Elora's that swished and swayed. He was flanked by a clutch of males carrying bows and spears- all quite the same build of what Elora could only rationalize as hornless fauns. But more handsome than any creature she had seen. And they were all decorated in brightly coloured paint on their eyes, faces, chests and bodies, hand and hoof prints, circles and lines were drawn across their skin and fur.

"You…Erm… Your mouth is hanging open, miss."

Elora shut it with a snap. Chuckling, almost- what was the noise called- **Whickering**, the man strode forward, his hooves gloriously round and dark. Not a mention of toes- a single hoof and it made the most resounding clop.

He reached forward, and offered his hand. Elora took it, hesitantly. But he tenderly cupped her fingers, and lifted them to his dark lips. She felt her heart flutter.

"Welcome to Lapitha. Or, as your kin calls it, 'Someplace Else'."

"I'm sorry about that, we'll get the portal label changed right away" The Professor piped in, feeling a little awkward around all this tense protocol. He tried to tap Elora's arm, to snap her out of the dreamy haze that fogged her mind.

"I am called Laughing Wildcat, but my name is Ahanu."  
"I think I'll stick to the latter, if that's alright." Elora giggled breathlessly, her tail flicking excitedly from side to side. "My name is Elora, and, well, I guess you know the Professor. Is this… some kind of greeting party?"

"Oh, No." One of the dapple-grey furred men to Ahanu's right piped up. He carried a spear that was decorated in rusty coloured feathers. "We are Ahanu's hunting party."

"We were passing this way when we heard you talking." Ahanu explained, and gestured to the members of his group "This is Cree," the dapple grey, "Nahuel" a dun in the back, "Lapu" a chestnut, "and Enapay" the last was a taller, quieter black-furred male, with skin that almost appeared blue. The only other colour on him was white, which appeared in bands on his hocks, and the tip of his long, luxuriously silky tail.

"May I ask" Elora piped up; getting a hold of herself once she had been formally introduced. "How do you know the Professor?"

"He arrived here a moon ago, from the Old Worlds, looking to bridge the broken gaps."  
"Told you so." The Professor mumbled, as if Elora needed assurance that he had actually kept his twenty year long promise to her.  
"We were his first contact, here, he tells us. He talked at great length with our Chief and Elders, mainly about you."

"Me?"

"He came looking for anyone that had lost their foal, years ago."

Without warning, Elora turned right around, grabbed the Professor by the scruff of his lab coat, and kissed him on the cheek, and then promptly hugged him until his ribs felt sore.

"Thank you, Dad. I knew you'd do it, some day!"  
"Elora!" he squeaked. "That's…quite alright…steady, now, dear!"

The faun- No. Lapith, she was sure of it now. The newly found lapith stood taller on her hooves. "Did they find anyone, Ahanu?"  
"One mare had her filly robbed, twenty summers ago, but if what the Professor says is true, then in fact, you could be her. Why don't you two follow us back to the camp?"  
"We came out looking for deer," Cree whickered, "And we found a lost Filly."


	15. Introducing: Chief Makya

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Spyro, not getting paid, yadda yadda.

**Author's Note:** Well! It's been a long break from this. Polished off the first year of uni, come down with illness, joined World of Warcraft, met some awesome friends who've helped my prose grow *a lot*... but I miss this story, and the universe I've fledged out for it. So! While the coast is clear, I thought I'd sit down and work on it some more. While I've been away, I've been thinking a great deal about the rest of this plot, too. It's long. It rivals Longcat. I'd venture to say it's Tolkienesque even. Forget that- more like Narnian.

Actually very Narnian, if you think about it…

...I've said too much. Roll Film!

* * *

The lapith village was at most strange and at least "quaint." The little circular houses- constructed of dry stones with thatched roofs- were arranged in clusters, with the doors facing inwards. These circles, were then arranged in orbital rows that surrounded a main fire pit and a larger public round house that Elora supposed was a meeting hall. Outermost to the houses were pens to house chickens and sheep, and fields of maise and wheat past that. Evenly laid roads wound away from the village, through copses of trees and out into the surrounding, rolling countryside. All until the bounds of the wooden fortification. While she was still in the hilltop, she took the advantage to peer into the distance. There seemed to be smaller huts along the wall- guard posts. Now that she looked, she could also see that the roads lead to gated spots in the fence.

Elora wondered upon this to herself. The Professor had mentioned a war- and they hadn't quite gotten back around to the subject yet for her to ask. Perhaps, the war wasn't so far behind the Lapith race.

The hunting party talked mostly to themselves, but Ahanu walked beside her, and chatted vaguely with her, as if he was shy.

Ahanu... what a pleasant change from the men who had been most prominent in her life, thus far. Once she could get him to talk, he spoke with conviction and confidence, especially on topics he knew about- and something he knew a _great_ deal about was his people. He introduced her to everyone that passed them on their journey towards the centre of the village; the henkeeper, the fletcher, the tanner, the baker. He knew all by name, and their kin, and their histories. Elora wondered what kind of rank he held in the tribe; after these last few months she was getting good and sniffing out the leading types, and Ahanu was it, hooves down.

Slowly, and with his gentle, quiet encouragement, Elora started to take in the culture. Greetings with strangers were made with a nod of the head, and raising the right (or left) hand. Friends always embraced, no matter what gender or age. The cycles of life, the seasons and the landmarks of the year were celebrated with festival and revelry, but above all, utter reverence. The land was their Mother, and all things that lived within her embrace were to be protected and respected, from the newest of life to the old or infirm on the very brink of death. Their hunting parties, while being trained killers, never let fly an arrow on their quarry without first whispering a pray of thanks and forgiveness for the chance to feed their families. Even such humble things as their hens were treated as tiny feathery queens by their keepers.

_Hah. Just as well that little purple rascal isn't here- otherwise I might have been facing an international incident. _

_...Ah,_ Elora thought again. _Hello, Bitterness, I was wondering where you'd been hiding._

She forcibly shook the feeling off. They were approaching the Meeting House, as Ahanu had informed her. There, she would meet the Elders of the tribe-

Gosh _darn_ it! Did _every_ world have Elders, or what? Couldn't they call this damn system something just a little more _inventive_?

...

She would meet the Elders of the tribe, consisting of Chief Makya, or "Eagle Hunter", the two Shamans, and an assorted bunch of master craftsman, herbalists and healers who were all well into their sixtieth years or more. Interestingly, she learned, most had at least a rudimentary grasp of magic.

Ahanu lead her into the House- where inside, many lapiths were sat cross-legged on rugs and furs in a wide circle. The Elders were sat with their backs to the far wall, and each bore a head-dress and intricate clothing- all related to their individual skills and crafts, so that it was easy to pick them out... For a native. Elora, however, had to have all the symbols, colours and sigils explained to her as if she was still only a young filly.

The hunting party approached the Elders. Ahanu was to her left, the Professor to her right. The lapith hunters knelt upon one hoof, their right fists pressed to their chests. Elora followed their lead, and had to tug on the Professor's lab coat to remind him to kneel, too.

The Cheif was a grand figure sat directly across from them, with the more elaborate of the headdresses, and an ornate staff layed across his legs. He rose to his hooves in a fluid motion that Elora raised her eyebrows at. She'd never seen that done so gracefully from any of _her_ kin. He was bare-chested, as most of the male lapiths seemed to be, with skin the colour of rich brown earth. But strangely, the brown of his fur was faded- dappled and flecked with white hairs even amongst the blotched pinto pattern. From what Elora could see of his hair behind the headdress, it was arranged in long plaits- and almost white with age. Even his bushy eyebrows were greyed. His face, set with deep wrinkles and crow's feet, suggested he was a very senior member of the tribe, indeed.

He made a silent gesture with his palms, bidding the hunters and the two ambassadors to rise. It was as if watching a master with his puppets, she thought, as they moved in unison at his beckoning, rising to their collective hooves. And feet- poor Professor, he was feeling a little left out being the only multiple-toed critter in the room.

"Ahanu." The Chief spoke, startlingly softly- Elora had half expected him to speak with a colossally deep voice. Instead, he sounded almost fatherly. Ahanu raised his chin noticibly.

"We welcome you and your hunting party home. Professor." He turned to the mole with a warm smile.

"We welcome you back, as well. Elora."

Elora's head snapped up to look at him. But the Chief tailed off, studying her for a moment with curious grey eyes. He took a step forward- and a glance at the way he leant on his staff, and moved so stiffly on his right leg, gave her the impression that he had an old, unset wound.

He reached out a hand- quite a bit bigger than her own, and Elora raised her own as if to accept a handshake. But he didn't take it. Instead, he turned a lock of her hair between his calloused fingers, and looked her over. She didn't take much liking to that invasion of her space, but she watched his expression soften in disbelief.

"You look... so much like her." The Chief told her, his voice breaking a little, so that he had to clear his throat.

"I feel, there is much to explain to you, child. Very much." Without another word, he walked passed her, the trains of feathers and beads from his headdress trailing behind him. He needn't beckon her- Elora was on his hocks in an instant.

Cree reached out, and put a hand on the Professor's shoulder, as he had moved to follow them.

"Not now, Professor." He muttered. "Let them speak alone."

The mole's face twisted in a grimace, but he nodded.

"I just hope she likes what she hears. Now! Tell me, how is that old generator I leant you working?"


	16. The Family History

**Discal**-... oh yeah. I honestly keep forgetting I don't have to keep putting that...

Well heck, these days this story needs all the comic relief it can get!

**Author's Note:** Began writing this as a defiant gesture towards my rickety stomach. Needed warm happy fuzzy feelings! In this chapter we finally learn what happened to Elora, and a little more about Lapithia's history.

* * *

The Chief walked on ahead of her, turning out onto the winding paths of the village. His slow, limping pace made it easy enough for Elora to follow in his hoof-falls, even without other Lapiths around them bowing and stepping out of his way. He picked out one path- one that lead down a slight dip in the valley, where a small but serviceable river wound its way across the lush landscape. It was only after they had left the shadows of the village huts that he spoke again, in the same soft tone; one so quiet, that it forced Elora to perk her ear up high enough to hear him.

" Twenty summers ago, our tribe lost a foal to the hands of our enemies."

Elora opened her mouth to speak, to ask a hundred questions, but without even having to look at her, Makya bid her to hush by merely raising his hand.

"Her mother was very proud of her, and often took her everywhere. Whether it was around the village or into the woods, the foal was there, bundled up in blankets, or in a sling, or carried in a basket at her mother's side. This time, particularly, she was in the basket. She was a good natured, patient foal, and was not often prone to crying or fuss. She curled right up and went to sleep in the basket without a whimper. Her mother turned her back on her for only a moment..."

Makya shook his head. "But it was one moment long enough. Her mother was ambushed by the other inhabitants of this land- those not tolerant of our presence. They swooped in, and snatched up the basket and bolted for the other side of the territory."

"But the mother of this child did not give up hope. She was swift of hoof and brave of heart. She chased the abductors all the way to this very creek." They were just at the water's edge as he said this, and dipped the top of his staff into the river thoughtfully. He beckoned her to join her, and sat gingerly down on the bank. She followed suit, drawing her knees up a little to hug them, and turned to listen to him intently.

"The mother fought bravely for her young daughter, using only her hands, hooves, and a small knife she had brought to harvest berries with. Her combatants were much better equipped-"

Makya turned to look at Elora, who's mouth was hanging slightly open. She'd been quite on the edge of her metaphorical seat. It sounded, to her, like a crazy fairytale. But it could well have been her. And it was starting to sound like-

"Never fear, Young Elora- the mother survived."

Elora exhaled quietly and relaxed.

"She survived, but her child was clearly lost. The abductors taunted her by tossing the basket skyward. Once, Twice- and then, there was a flash of light, and suddenly... the basket was gone."

"...Yep. That sounds like one of the Professor's portal malfunctions to me." Elora muttered to herself.

Makya shrugged almost comically, but from the twinge of a wince in his features it was clear- the subject still seemed to sting. "We had barely named her. She was only a few days old when we lost her... And she was my only granddaughter."

"..._What_?"

The Chief smiled wryly. "I have not been dishonest. But I have obscured the truth. The mother was my own daughter. Certainly, she has a brother, and he has sired sons... But she bore my only granddaughter, and has since had no other children. She has never quite forgiven herself, I fear."

He looked up; Elora was motionless. There were only so many revelations she could take in the space of a month, and by far, this was the biggest. Beside her sat her very on flesh and blood, right here, all along. And somewhere back in the village was he mother- the woman who birthed her. Right _here_. Further- somewhere she had an uncle- he was alive, and well, and apparently successful- and she had cousins! Real cousins, once, twice, maybe three times removed! And while she wouldn't have nieces or nephews, her uncle's son's son's might call her Aunty Elora, and there she'd be with a real honest to goodness _family_.

It was overwhelming. It was glorious! And she had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Except, what she needed to do. Elora did the one thing we'd all do in this sort of situation. She reached out, put her arms around the Chief, and wept. Very happy tears indeed.


	17. The Roots Run Deep

When she came around, she hastily wiped her eyes, and asked questions. So many questions that it was difficult for Makya to keep up. The first order of business was clearing that up- And Elora took to calling him Grandfather very keenly indeed. Which descended quickly into Grandpa. And then Pa. And that, of all things, made Makya grin the most. He told her as much as he could about his side of the family, in his familiar, fatherly tones.

"I've always heard that it was the mark of a true leader, you know." Said Elora carefully. "I mean, you speak so softly. People have to be real quiet so they can even hear you to listen to you. And that makes them listen."  
Makya smirked, and patted his old staff fondly. "A wise man, who happened to be my father, once told me, 'Speak softly, and carry a big stick'."  
"Some things _never change_."

Then Elora's mind turned to a new detail she hadn't thought of before until now.

"But Grandpa. What about my father?"

"...Ah."

Of all the things she didn't want to hear, right now, that boded the worst.

"So I don't have one?"  
"Oh, no, no. You do. Unfortunately..." Makya grimaced. "He's the reason we lost you."  
"Oh for pities sake." Elora grumbled. "What is it with men in my life being jack asses, these days."

Reaching out to pat her shoulder fondly, Makya began to explain.

"We are a peaceful people, Elora. But our race is, by certain standards, still young.

This land used to belong to another race. You may have heard of them before; Centaurs."

Elora frowned. She had indeed, heard tales about Centaurs. But she could catch this drift; these were the villains of the story.

"I'd always heard they were knowledgeable- they were the first to chart Avalar's stars, and set up the first calendars..."  
"Oh, yes, that's all true." Makya said- strangely, without a hint of irony or bitterness. Elora searched his expression for any scrap of that, and found none. "The Centaur are a noble, intelligent race. However; they are lead by highly misguided doctrine stretching back before our time. They are sycophants, and bitterly loyal to their leaders and Cause."

"And, what's their Cause?"

"Oh, only to wipe out anything that isn't them." Replied Makya with a weary grin. "Especially if it looks like us."

Elora sighed quietly. Oh great. Another war to settle.

"So... My father was a Centaur?"  
"Not quite- Hold your whiskers, girl, I'm getting to it."

Elora silenced herself, resting her chin on her knuckle, and resigned herself to listen.

"Lapiths, as I said, are a young race. Younger than the Proud Centaurs... and younger, than the Merry Fauns."

"What? How do you know about Fauns?"

"Hush! I'm getting to it... Fauns and satyrs, Elora. They originated in Spring Meadows, thousands of years ago. They roamed far and wide, enlightening races and cheering folk wherever they went. To begin with, even the centaurs were under their charm. They offered many pacts of Alliance to the hedonistic race; a race that didn't feel the need to commit to politics and formality. When the centaurs gave them treaties, the fauns gave them goblets of wine. Their relationship soon degraded when the youth of the two races began to mix, and even to breed. What came forth from the union of a centaur and a faun, is what you see before you."

Elora blinked. And then a slow, faultering smile spread across her lips.

"Oh, ho, ho; it gets better. Over the following decades, many young lapiths were born from these scandalous unions. When the offspring were found to be perfectly hale and fertile, the crosses were soon encouraged- by fauns and lapiths, but not centaurs. Centaurs saw these unions as blasphemous dirtying of the bloodlines of noble centaur families with the less worthy fauns. But enough damage, by that point, had been done. Enough lapiths existed for the race to start breeding true. Our ancestors were well on their way to being free-standing culture of our own. An all out war broke out, and both sides- lapiths and centaurs, parents and children, lost many people and much land to one another. Today, we still hold our homeland, this stronghold here. The centaurs have a homeworld of their own, far across the Meadow, but no one has set hoof in the Meadow for many years."

"...Grandfather?"

"Yes?"

"My father. What does this have to do with him?"

"...Oh!" Makya chuckled. "I'm getting old, my child, and I like to tell stories. Sometimes, I just forget which stories I'm telling!"

Then he turned to her with an honest smile, and began again, slightly more on topic.

"There was a great exodus of fauns that left these lands thousands of years ago- I image they went on to found the other kingdoms of Avalar. Some- but not all. Here, in Lapithia, we have harboured pockets of faun and satyr families that remained from the old times. They don't tend to live in the village proper- spending more time in the copses of woods, or out in the plains. Sometimes, you can hear panpipes on the winds..."

"Grandpa."

"...Right, yes, sorry. Nowadays, we don't mix so much- the fauns that remained here, wanted to retain their race by not crossing with our own and dissolving into the population. We wanted to give them every possible chance to have a choice to breed, or not to breed with our kind- a thing that our enemies the centaurs would never allow. Yes, yes, I'm getting to it. But... young love can not be stopped by old protocols..."

The lightbulb flashed over Elora's head."And, the centaurs got wind that there was a child born of a lapith mother, and..."

Makya nodded. "And a faun father. Yes, Elora."

He almost laughed again to see her fan herself dazedly with her hand.

"With such a blasphemous union, the centaurs could firmly justify sending assailants to abduct or kill the offspring, thereby removing another heir from my line and, well, causing havoc and mischief as always... Elora? Are you alright?"

"Hm?" Elora looked up, her expression a little far-away. "Oh, it's nothing, it's just... I'm happy to know. I'm half a faun. And _you_, Grandpa, are a _dork_."  
"I'm a what?"  
"Nevermind. Long story- I'll tell you sometime."

They shared a confused, awkward sort of laugh, and then silence.

"So, mom fell in love with a faun. I take it she wasn't supposed to."  
Makya nodded, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to explain.  
"Well, being the successor to the Tribe after her brother, it was assumed that she would choose a lapith man to marry, and-"

"Woah woah woah woah woah." Elora held up her hands. "Wait. Back up. She's the what?"  
"One of my hiers, yes. Come along, Elora, she _is_ my _daughter_."  
"Yeah, yeah... and I'm _her_ daughter."  
"...Ah. Yes, after your uncle, and her, and your cousins, you are next in line."

Elora suddenly shrieked with laughter and fell onto her back, clutching her sides.  
"What in Mother's name is the matter with you child?" said Makya, completely missing the joke.  
Gasping for air, Elora turned to him and spluttered in a half-laugh;

"_I'm a_ _princess_!"


End file.
